the only thing that comes (is the post-traumatic stresses)
by BadWolfGirl01
Summary: Part Six of "these battle scars". The end of the Clone Wars. 11 chapters, 150k words.
1. Chapter 1

_**The climax of the action of "these battle scars". This fic has four main battles: the Senate chamber, Felucia, Utapau, and Mustafar. Content warnings: violence, severe injury, flashbacks, nightmares, PTSD, mind control (briefly), guilt/survivor's guilt, major character death, slavery, torture, less-brief mind control, manipulation, escapism, depression, anxiety/panic attacks, dependency, and a brief discussion of suicidal thoughts. Please stay safe while reading.**_

* * *

The Sith Lord known as Darth Sidious, formerly Chancellor of the Republic, sits in the corner of his cell as he has done for the last two months and makes plans.

The Jedi have taken his lightsaber, and the cell is cut off from the Force; they seem to believe him helpless, like they've conquered the mighty Sith Master by taking away his powers. They seem to have forgotten, Sidious muses, that his facade, Sheev Palpatine, was a politician.

His primary weapon has never been his lightsaber-though he is exceedingly skilled with the blade, of course-nor has it been the Force, as he prefers to use the Force subtly, to manipulate and hide and bend rather than straight-out attack. No, his favored weapon is words, and he needs no connection to the Force to use words.

He's spent weeks quietly manipulating the guard who brings him his meals, and finally, his manipulations have borne fruit; the guard will be here soon, and Sidious has convinced him to take Sidious to see the sunlight-in binders, of course, but the moment he leaves the Force-blocked cell the binders won't matter.

The guard comes right on time, as usual, and after Sidious eats it's time. The guard apologizes about the necessity of the binders, and Sidious almost absently reassures him, all the while concentrating on summoning all his hatred of the pathetic, weak Jedi Order. The guard makes the mistake of cuffing his hands in front of him, and Sidious can't quite hide a smirk.

Finally.

The cell door opens, and Sidious steps out; the moment he passes the threshold, power pours into him, and it's just a matter of a little concentration and lightning sparks blue from his fingers, crackles across the security camera, shutting it down. The guard spins back around to face him, frowns, says, "What was that?"

Sidious shrugs. "It must have been a malfunction," he says, puts a trace of the Force behind his words, and the guard nods, leads him forward. Sidious takes the time to carefully undo the binders, dropping them carelessly behind him, and then when the guard turns back to him he puts every ounce of Force-persuasion he has behind his words and says, "You will show me where my lightsaber is."

The clone guard hesitates.

And then his eyes go vacant and he nods. "I will show you where your lightsaber is."

Sidious smiles.

This is all-too-easy.

...

Rex shifts a little in his seat and Brii gives him a sharp look. "Sir, if you don't want me to mess up, you have to stop moving."

"I know," Rex grumbles, and ignores Ahsoka's smirk. Don't give me that , he thinks, feels her amusement surge in response. This wasn't my idea, remember.

You did agree, though.

Under extreme duress, he says, hisses a little. Ow.

I wouldn't call Brii asking you nicely and showing you a design he drew 'extreme duress.'

Rex rolls his eyes. Brii's pleading looks could be weaponized. And the jaig eyes had looked kriffing good . And Ahsoka had kept pestering him and, well, here he is.

Getting a kriffing tattoo .

Brii keeps saying he's almost done, but Rex is starting to think that's just a tactic to get him to be patient and he doesn't appreciate it.

His squad is sitting around, mostly making approving comments to Brii, suggesting he add more blue (and Rex wishes he hadn't permitted Brii to do color but the kid had been so determined ). They're being very supportive, especially Fives, who has brought him two cups of caf so far and seems utterly thrilled at the turn of events.

(He's been doing better lately, which Rex is grateful for.)

It looks good , Ahsoka hums, and Rex smiles at her, rolling his eyes.

Well I hope so, because I'm stuck with it now.

Brii isn't letting him see it until he's done, which Rex thinks is unfair, but Brii has proven to be like that with most things relating to his art - he doesn't like people seeing the process. Thankfully, it's only a few more minutes before Brii frowns thoughtfully, leans back, and nods. "I think I'm done," he says firmly, a nervous smile playing across his features.

Rex peers down at his chest to see, and it's not a good angle but what he sees is, he thinks, much better than he'd thought. Bri hasn't gone crazy with colors, like he'd feared, but kept to blue with just a few embellished hints of gold and orange. Ahsoka comes around in front of him next to Brii, nods approvingly with a tiny smirk on her face. "Good job, Brii."

"Thanks," Brii says happily, and Rex stands, nodding.

"Yeah kid, it's great. Really." He gives him a genuine smile and reaches for his shirt again. He has a lot of scars, most of them bad, and having them on display to his men is… not comfortable.

...

Ahsoka had honestly never thought she'd manage to convince Rex to get a tattoo-of course, Brii's extremely effective pleading looks had definitely helped, but still. She's rather proud of herself. You know, you're next, Rex tells her, and she makes a face at him.

Nope. Brii's pleading looks don't work on me, she says, smirks a little.

"When are you going to get a tattoo, Commander?" Brii asks, looking brightly up at her. "I have a few design ideas I've sketched out if you want to take a look?"

Kriff.

Rex is laughing at her, silently, and she sighs. "Sure," she says, gives Brii a smile. "I'd love to-"

The door to the barracks suddenly flies open, slams into the wall, and Anakin sprints in. His eyes are wide and wild and he looks utterly horrified."He escaped," he gasps out, stopping and leaning against one of the bunks.

"What?" Ahsoka frowns, not understanding. "Who? Master, I don't-"

"Palpatine," and Anakin holds out a handheld holoprojector. The holo plays, showing the former Chancellor being escorted from his cell by a guard, past the perimeter of the Force-block, and then there's a flash of lightning and the holo goes dark.

Ahsoka swears. "But that means-"

"We have to do something," and he looks so sick.

...

When Anakin bursts in, Rex automatically snatches one of his DCs off the table, curls his finger around the trigger because when Anakin gets like this it means something is very, very bad.

His hand only tightens around it when he hears why . Palpatine, the kriffing Chancellor, the Sith Lord , cannot escape . Rex wants to see him executed for his crimes, wants to know the people he loves are safe from him.

"Let's kriffing go after him, sir," he says, reaching for his armor and gun belt, sees his men all scrambling to their feet too, grabbing buckets, ready to leave and find the man (not even the man, the creature) who has been manipulating them all from the beginning, who ordered Rex reconditioned, who must have something to do with the voice in their heads and the nightmares.

But Anakin holds up a hand, forestalls them. "We need a plan. A real one. I don't even know where he is, and he's a Sith Lord ." They've all fought Sith and dar'jetii before, but something tells Rex that Anakin is more worried about this one than he had been the others - and it makes sense. If no one has noticed before that Palpatine is a Sith, he must be powerful, and patient.

Rex doesn't want to lose more of his men in a battle they aren't qualified to fight (he sees Grievous, Dooku, Ventress, and the worst, Krell, cutting down his vod'e as easily as if they were practice dummies), but he needs to have this, a chance at making Palpatine pay for everything he's caused. Rex is sure the Chancellor is responsible for more than they even know. "You're right, sir, but… We should hurry."

"Trust me, I know , Rex," Anakin growls, feral and fierce and frightened.

...

"Master, comm Obi-Wan," Ahsoka says. "We'll need his help. The hard part will be finding him, but I think I have an idea."

She doesn't tell Anakin what her idea is; if he knew, he'd never let her do it. But it's the best chance they have of finding Sidious-Palpatine-before it's too late.

What are you planning, Soka? Rex asks, and she swallows.

You need to shield yourself, hard. And **don't reach for me,** no matter what you feel. This is-safe, I promise, but not for you.

He does not feel convinced. Should I tell Anakin?

No! I'm fine, I know what I'm doing. Mostly. Probably. Just kriffing put the shields up, Rex. Please?

He sighs, glares at her, but she feels the shields go up and she smiles. He just glares harder.

Snips, what are you doing? Anakin asks, and she carefully brings up her strongest shields, blocking him out. Some things are not meant to be shared.

And then she closes her eyes and sinks into the Force, and calls.

Father!

You do not need to shout, the Father says with a sort of dry amusement. What is it, child?

You showed me the Sith Master once before, she says. I need to find him again, and to be able to follow him if he moves.

Are you sure? the Father asks. I cannot shield you from his Darkness. This is not safe for you, child.

It's the best option we have, Ahsoka argues. He's too dangerous, we **have** to find him. Do it.

Very well, and she's jerked out of the meditation by an overwhelming aura of Darkness, so thick and choking she feels like she's suffocating, and she reaches for Rex instinctively, tries not to be sick.

...

Rex doesn't know what Ahsoka is planning, only that he wants to grab her and shake her and stop her because it sounds dangerous , but instead he does as he's told and wraps himself in the toughest shields he has, pulls away from their bond because he remembers a hurricane tearing apart his mind and he doesn't want to feel that again - he knows it will kill him if he does.

He shoots Anakin a look and Anakin strides over. "What is she doing? " he hisses.

"I don't know, I- ah, gods ." Icy cold snaps across the bond, in the midst of it the feeling of Ahsoka's panic, and he realizes she's reaching for him which must mean it's alright to respond.

He grabs the bond and he feels nothing but cold , ice that burns, an ocean of anger and hate and chaos and he doesn't know what it is but he reaches into the waves to Ahsoka's desperate thoughts, grabs on tight. He senses she needs him so he tightens his shields, ignores the hate that's whispering in the back of his mind, and projects warmth and love like armor against the ice. Protection, duty, strength, love - all the things that have always helped him control his anger.

This is so much, Rex, she thinks.

Hang on, Soka, he answers, although he doesn't know why she's doing this except that it will supposedly help them find the Chancellor. Focus on me .

...

Ahsoka can't breathe.

She clings to Rex's love and warmth, forces the burning ice of the Darkness into a small point, wraps it in her strongest shields-even then, she can still feel the hatred and raw evil whispering to her, and she shudders, sucks in a few desperate breaths, and then she forces her eyes open.

"Okay," she says, carefully, winces as the Dark tries to force its way out again. (It does not like being bound up. Hopefully this doesn't backfire on her the way it did on Sidious, although at least she's not covering the galaxy in a web.) "I-should be able to find him now."

"What the kriff did you do?" Anakin snaps, eyes wide and worried. "Snips, your mind-"

"I know," Ahsoka says, tries not to be sharp. "I asked nicely. That's what I did."

That doesn't explain anything, and she knows that, and from the look Anakin gives her, he knows she knows. "Ahsoka…"

She huffs, because all he has to do is say her name in that tone, with that look, and… "I. Asked the Force to show me Sidious like it did last time?"

"Last time?"

Oh, right, she hasn't actually told Anakin about that yet. "Uh, it's a long story. Also I may have saved his life." Anakin stares at her like he can't quite believe her, and she raises her hands in surrender (and then grits her teeth as another wave of hatred-fear- pain breaks through her shields). "It was-kind of an accident?"

"You never actually explained that," Fives says.

She gives him a withering stare. "Well, I was a bit busy keeping you guys from killing me!"

Fives recoils, and she swears silently, because she knows better and she didn't mean that and- "Kriff, I think it's affecting me," she mutters, closes her eyes. "I can- feel him. There's so much."

She reaches for Rex again, clings to his love. He's so strong, she sends. I can't-I can't keep him out.

...

Rex wraps his mind around Ahsoka's as best he can, projecting love and trying to make his armor hers, too. It's so cold and he remembers trying to drag Ahsoka back from the Son, only to be forced out of her mind, unable to help, and he clings to his own anger (anger at the way Fives' eyes flicker with guilt, the way Ahsoka feels frightened and lonely, the way he wants to see Palpatine burn ) and fills her with what strength he has to offer. Then he feels Anakin's mind too, and the shields his General puts up are far better and stronger than his own.

He feels Ahsoka focus, and then she smiles a little, nods. "Thank you," she says, and Rex nods because it still takes too much mental focus for him to keep shields up, so talking is hard.

He glances over at Fives and the rest of his squad, and smiles at them, trying to be reassuring because Fives looks withdrawn into himself and the rest of his men don't look much better. "You know she didn't mean it, vod ," he says quietly, stepping towards Fives, and the ARC trooper shrugs carelessly, with an effort at a smile in Ahsoka's direction.

"Yeah, I get it. No harm done, Commander," he says, but that's just not true and Rex sighs, wishes he could focus enough to fix this . Instead he just pushes more love and strength at Ahsoka because he knows she needs it.

...

Ahsoka grabs onto Rex's projection, holds tight-sends a brief thought of gratitude to Anakin for his shields (he responds with a burst of angry reprimand, and she winces a little because she definitely deserves that), takes a sharp breath. "Fives," she starts, but he shakes his head, cuts her off.

"You're fine, Commander, let's just get that slimy bastard dar'jetii," and she's going to have to have a conversation with him after this. For reasons she can barely understand (and they haven't exactly explained it to her, she's not vod'e even if she and Rex are-whatever they are), Fives has been the one who's struggled the most with Kamino, even though she's told him multiple times she doesn't blame him for what happened.

"Alright," she says, gets to her feet and checks to make sure her 'sabers are where they should be-both of them, including the new one she'd made just a couple weeks ago, are clipped securely to her belt, and she nods. "Let's go."

"We'll split into squads," Anakin says, raising his voice so the entire barracks can hear him. "As soon as we get a fix on Palpatine's position, form a secure perimeter, tight as you can, but once Ahsoka and I engage him do not fire."

"Remember Krell?" Ahsoka asks, sees how the troopers who'd been in the command center when she'd fought him nod, understanding dawning.

...

Rex nods, glances at his squad while he picks up the last of his armor from the table, buckling on his pauldrons and bracers with swift, practiced fingers. Remembering Krell puts a tightness in his chest that he has to breathe past because they had been as prepared as they could be, but Krell had still broken past them. But this time, this time they'll be ready, and Anakin and Ahsoka and Kenobi will all be there. That will be enough, won't it? (He doubts it, a little, but there's anger burning like coals in his gut and his instinct says it's time to fight.)

He puts on his helmet and unholsters his other DC-17, feels the comforting weight of both blaster pistols against his palms, and pulls away some of his shields from Ahsoka so he can actually focus . "Lead the way, Commander," he growls, and Ahsoka nods, and he senses her listening to the cold point of hatred she's struggling so hard to contain, and then suddenly she takes off running out of the mess. Anakin and Rex and the battalion form up behind her, running too, in a move as familiar as breathing, now.

"I'm going to comm Obi-Wan to get the 212th to meet us," Anakin says. "We're going to need them."

Rex lifts one hand slightly in acknowledgement. They'll need everyone they can get.

...

Ahsoka closes her eyes, falls deeper into the Darkness that is Sidious' presence, trying to divine where he's going; he's moving, she can tell that much, and she doesn't want to run around all of kriffing Coruscant on a wild-bantha chase.

It's hard, so hard. His mind is a whirlpool of turning cogs and plots and plans, seeds he's planted years ago and carefully nurtured, layers upon layers of contingency plans set just for this possibility. He's simultaneously gleeful about how easy this all is, how smoothly it's going, and frustrated that some of his seeds aren't ready yet. She gets a sense that he'd needed a few more months for the political climate to be ideal; try as she might, however, she can't find what his current plans are, not without alerting him to her presence.

She does, however, find his destination.

Clinging to her bonds, Ahsoka lets love and strength, anger and determination pull her out of the Dark, and she gasps faintly and swallows. "The Senate, he's going to the Senate," she says, and then she starts running again.

He has so many plans, plans within plans within plans, and she feels a heavy, choking despair settle leaden in her stomach. How can they even hope to defeat him?

Stop it, Snips, that's his influence, Anakin sends, and she feels him chasing out all the fear and despair. Focus on the here-and-now, and remember-the first thing anyone ever taught me about the Force is that your focus determines your reality.

She nods, breathes in, out. Your focus determines your reality. They can do this.

...

"Rex, Obi-Wan is with the Council but he's going to meet us," Anakin calls, and Rex nods, turns his own wristcomm to Cody's frequency as they turn the last corridor headed for the barracks hangar. He can tell Ahsoka is having trouble focusing but that isn't priority; priority is the Senate building, as fast as possible, which means they need transports.

"Cody," he snaps.

"Hey, vod , " Cody answers. "What do you need?"

"Get your battalion down to the hangar, now . The Chancellor escaped and he's headed for the Senate."

"Copy that."

"They're on their way, General," Rex says, and Anakin shoots him a tight smile and a nod.

"Great, Rex."

Whatever the Chancellor wants with the Senate building, it can't be good. Rex pushes himself to run faster because they have to have the transports up as soon as the 212th arrives, have to get there and fix this.

When his entire battalion bursts into the hangar like they have a whole droid army behind them, most of the flight technicians and pilots go dead still, then someone shouts "How many ships?"

"We're transporting two battalions," Rex answers, waves his hand and the 501st forms up into squads so they can get on their transports as efficiently as possible. Hurry up, Cody . Then he strides over to Ahsoka, grabs her arm. "You doing alright?"

She meets his eyes, takes a steady breath. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay. Just… We need to get to him."

Rex nods, glances at his General. "We're working on it."

It feels longer than the ten minutes it is before Cody and the 212th march into the hangar, also split into squads, and Cody comes over to them, salutes to Anakin. "General. We're ready to go."

The pilots have the transports running and Rex helps Cody direct each squad to their transport as fast as possible - it's Rex's squad who moves fastest, understands the clearest what they're dealing with. Ahsoka goes with them, Anakin goes with Cody, and Rex lets himself put his arm around Ahsoka's shoulders as they take off, sends her another rush of strength and love. It's going to be alright, he thinks, grimly. He's more than ready to make the Chancellor pay for everything that's been done to his men since he authorized the creation of the GAR.

...

Commander Fox's troopers have always been loyal to the Chancellor, and that hasn't changed just because Sidious had the misfortune to be imprisoned. When Sidious borrows his guard-turned-escort's comm to contact the Commander, he's gratified by the instant response and assurance that the Commander would be waiting with a squad-and a pair of Sidious' Senatorial robes-at a safe rendezvous.

Sidious has always appreciated true loyalty.

"You and your men are to be commended for your loyalty in the face of such trials," he tells the clone Commander, smiles the grandfatherly smile he's perfected over the years he's been Sheev Palpatine.

"Thank you, Chancellor, sir," Commander Fox says, bowing his head. "The men and I all agreed there's no way you could be a Sith Lord or a traitor. How anyone could believe that we don't understand-you've dedicated so much of your life to working tirelessly for the good of the Republic, and this is your reward?"

Sidious does his best to suppress a triumphant smile. "Indeed, Commander-but we must not be angry at the Senate for their error. The Jedi have been plotting to take over the Republic, and the Senate has spent too long blindly putting faith in the Jedi Order to recognize the seeds of deception. That is why I must speak to them; I can see clearly through the web of lies so cleverly woven by Grand Master Yoda and the Jedi Council. As Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, it is my responsibility to aid the Republic when it begins to stray down the wrong path."

Fox nods. "Sir, what about the Jedi? What do we do about them?"

"They have committed treason against the Republic, Fox," Sidious says, dropping his voice and stepping towards the clone, as though he's imparting some grave secret. "And they must be dealt with accordingly. Justice will be swift."

"But-the younglings, the children, what about them?" another trooper asks, and Sidious internally rolls his eyes.

"I am afraid the taint of treachery and Darkness has spread even to the younglings," he says, somber with a hint of sorrow, as though he regrets it. "It grieves me deeply to say this, but the entire Order must be wiped out, exterminated like the plague upon society it has become." He puts just enough of the Force behind his words to makes the troopers agree, without being enough for them to notice his influence. "But enough of this talk! I must hurry-I have to speak to the Senate before the Jedi move to silence me."

* * *

Sidious has his lightsaber secure in the hidden pocket within his sleeve, and a holoprojector with executive codes that will transport to the in-helmet comms of every clone trooper when he gives the order: he expects the Jedi to challenge him while he's in the Senate, of course, and he will easily be able to turn that move against them.

The Senate chamber is full of Senators, of course, and Sidious even spies Duchess Satine Kryze, the speaker for the Alliance of Neutral Systems and Duchess of Mandalore, standing with Senators Amidala and Organa in one of the repulsorpods. That is an interesting alliance, he thinks; Senator Mothma of Chandrila is almost certainly also a part of that group, too. He'll have to keep an eye on them, perhaps have them disposed of.

Sidious strides into the the chamber, makes for the center, where the Speaker is, his troops escorting him. His entrances causes an instant stir in the gathered Senators, of course; he smiles privately, testing the ambient Force of the huge auditorium, finding the emotional climate to be nearly perfect for what he intends to do. He ascends to the central podium, speaks into the microphone, already beginning to subtly influence the emotional state of the Senators to the most useful state.

"Honored delegates of Republic-allied worlds, I apologize for my interruption, but I am the bearer of urgent news. As you all are aware, some two months ago I, former Supreme Chancellor of this grand Republic, was wrongfully imprisoned by the Jedi, accused of crimes against this establishment. I have managed to win my freedom for long enough to bring you the dreadful news that the Jedi have betrayed the Republic! The Jedi Council is planning to take over the Republic, and when I discovered this nefarious plot, they manufactured evidence accusing me of dreadful treachery, in order to silence me before I could warn you, honored delegates! I come before you today, not as your Supreme Chancellor, but as a humble fugitive; my standing in society may have changed drastically, but I have not lost the burning desire to protect the freedom of the thousands of systems who look to the Republic for protection, and this is why I risk my life to come before you. It is likely the Jedi already know I am here, and are on their way here even now, that they might silence me. But I say this to you, honored delegates: I will not be silenced! Justice cannot be muted, and she cries out for the blood of the treasonous Jedi Order! For speaking out against the tyranny of Grand Master Yoda and his Council, I fully expect I will lose my life, but that is a sacrifice I make willingly, yes, eagerly, that my words might live on in your voices, that the Republic might yet retain its freedom!"

A repulsorpod zips out into the open space, and the Senator on it shouts, "What are you proposing we do? We are no match for the power of the Jedi!"

Sidious nudges the Force a bit more, lightly tugs on the fear, the desire for vengeance, bringing it to the forefront. "Fear not, Senator-the Jedi are powerful, but they are not immortal, and I swear to you the Grand Army of the Republic is standing by, prepared to extinguish this treacherous flame before the fire burns the entire Republic to ashes. They only await my orders."

Another repulsorpod moves out. Amidala. "Senators, I beg you, do not make an immature decision! We have yet to see evidence of this supposed treason! Have you forgotten how the Jedi have lost the most in this war, more than anyone else besides the clones? The Jedi have always been staunch allies and supporters of the Republic and our commitment to the ideals of freedom and peace. Honored delegates, members of the Senate, if we allow this atrocity, this genocide, to occur, we are betraying our own Constitution! This is not justice, this is a massacre!"

"I concur with Senator Amidala," calls Mon Mothma, toggling her own repulsorpod out into the floor. "Where is this evidence? Senators, listen to me: this is not freedom. This is fear!"

The floor dissolves into chaos, arguing, some applause, and Sidious tests the Force again. There are Force-signatures approaching at high speed, and he smiles. Excellent-all the threads are coming together. "Senators, please!" he shouts, Forcing them to listen to him. "The Senators from Chandrila and Naboo are well within right and reason to request evidence. If it is evidence you wish for, Senator Amidala, Senator Mothma, I give you evidence!"

He gestures to the main entrance to the Senate chamber just as Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, and Ahsoka Tano sprint in, lightsabers ignited, followed by Captain Rex and Commander Cody and other clones. There are cries of horror, fear, panic around the chamber as what appears to be the entire 212th and 501st battalions enter the chamber from different points, blasters up, forming a perimeter.

"Do you believe me now, Senators?" Sidious shouts, spreading his arms wide. "See how the Jedi seek to cover up their tracks-but it is too late!"

"Execute the traitors!" someone shouts, and they are echoed by cries from all around the Senate chamber. "Kill the Jedi!"

"Sheev Palpatine," Kenobi shouts, his voice Force-amplified, and he, Skywalker, Tano, and Rex take over a repulsorpod and move out into the air, "by the authority invested in me as a member of the High Council of the Jedi Order, I, Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, place you under arrest for charges of treason, resisting arrest, conspiring with the enemy, possession of unsanctioned weapons, breaking the Constitution of the Republic, and being a Sith Lord actively in use of the Dark Side of the Force. Know that anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law-"

Sidious just sighs, shakes his head. "So it's treason, then," he says softly, though the microphone picks up his voice and makes it echo all around the chamber. And he pulls out the holoprojector, activates it, and when he speaks he makes certain he's also speaking into the microphone. "Clone troopers of the GAR, the time has come," and he feels the padawan, Tano, scream a warning into the Force, so loud and strong anyone with a shred of Force-sensitivity will hear, but she is too late, and he smiles quietly. "Execute Order Sixty-Six."

...

Rex can't move , he can't , won't, is afraid if he does it will be to turn his blasters on his Jedi, afraid if he breaks the stillness he'll hear good soldiers follow orders again and he can only reach desperately for Ahsoka's thoughts so if it happens she can pull him back; his whole squad is frozen too but.

But Cody isn't, his ori'vod isn't, and he moves swiftly, easily, with all his usual control, bringing his blaster pistol to bear on General Kenobi and no one has time to stop his finger from tightening around the trigger, the blaster bolt from shining blue for a harsh second before it sears into Kenobi's back, perfectly between his shoulder blades and for a moment. Rex doesn't. Move .

And then the ice cracks and the fear solidifies into horrible certainty and Rex's squad, most of his battalion, moves because the 212th has their blasters turned on their Jedi and Kenobi has crumpled to the floor and someone is screaming, too many people are screaming, and Ahsoka and Anakin aren't going to be fast enough to block all the blaster bolts so his battalion bursts into motion, forms a guard around them, and Rex sets his blaster to stun to shoot Cody because his vod shows no signs of snapping out of it and Rex yanks off his own helmet (tactically unwise but perhaps it will help).

"Get out of the way," Cody growls, and Rex gives a hand signal for more of his squad to help him cover his Jedi.

He knows they all have their blasters set to stun already, so he holds up two fingers from his DC-17, prepares to give the order to fire. Cody doesn't wait for him, fires at Anakin, but Fives lunges into the path of the bolt, takes it in the collarbone with a cry, and Rex drops his fingers.

His squad fires as one, and Cody drops to the floor in a clatter of armor.

"Protect the Jedi at all costs," Rex says to his battalion, knows he hardly has to. "But shoot to stun."

Anakin drags General Kenobi into the middle of their squad, eyes wild. "Where's Kix?"

Kix switches his saber off (Rex hadn't even noticed him get it out but he's glad he did) and rushes over to crouch by Kenobi, and Rex thinks he looks lost and out of his depth. "Protect him, Kix, help him if you can," Anakin says fiercely. "I'm going after the Chancellor."

"Yes, sir."

Rex doesn't have time to reassure Kix like he wants to because his men all around the Senate chambers are shooting each other, and the ones who didn't obey the order are being killed, and that is his priority now - that and protecting civvies. He doesn't give himself space to be afraid for his Jedi, he can't.

He grabs Fives' arm, says, "Can you fight?"

"Yeah, vod ."

"Alright." That has to be enough. "I'm leaving you and the rest of my squad to protect Kix and Kenobi, and watch their backs," he gestures to Anakin and Ahsoka rushing towards the Chancellor's podium. Fives nods. "The rest of you, with me!" he shouts, and breaks into a run, knows they'll follow. They have to protect their vod'e , have to subdue them all as fast as they can so they can focus on the Sith .

There is no alternative.

...

Caleb Dume, Jedi Padawan, is thoroughly tired of fighting. For one, they go to all these different planets-like this one, Kaller-and all they ever do is blast droids, which is easy and also boring and he really just wants to learn everything he can about the planets. Who cares about a war?

Master Billaba, he thinks, feels the same way, but she's told him, very sternly, that this is their mandate right now, and they have to obey it. And then she scolds him when he sulks about it. He can't help sulking, though-even if Commander Grey and Captain Styles find it funny.

They're sitting around their camp on Kaller, after finally ending the battle, and Master Billaba is telling some story about him as a youngling, and he groans, because why does she always have to do that? It's embarrassing.

And then the Force screams with warning, so loud Caleb instinctively claps his hands over his ears, though he knows that won't help.

Master Billaba looks terrified, and also… accepting? He doesn't understand. "Master, what's wrong-"

And then Commander Grey starts swearing. "General, the order-"

"I know," she says calmly, and she stands, ignites her slim green lightsaber blade. "Take your vod'e who are free and run, Commander. That is an order. Protect Caleb."

"I can protect myself!" Caleb protests, standing and igniting his blue lightsaber. "What's wrong?"

And then the Force twists, inverting upon itself in utter turmoil, and Caleb is drowning in screams and pain, so so much pain, someone-many someones-dying-Jedi dying-and there's pain stabbing into is chest, his head, his back, his whole body, and someone's screaming (it's him) and-and-

Caleb!

He reaches for his Master's voice, terror and screams and anguish flowing through him like blood. Master! Master, help, help, help me please-

Caleb, **run!**

He can't. I won't leave you, Master! Please, I don't **understand,** don't make me go-

The battalion is advancing, blasters firing, and his Master is blocking the bolts but she can't do this for long and-and-

"Commander, come on," Grey shouts, and Caleb shakes his head.

"I can't, I can't, she needs me-"

"I'm sorry for this, Commander," Captain Styles says, and before Caleb has time to react a stun pulse slams into him, and the last thing Caleb feels is endless agony as his Master dies, riddled with blaster bolts, and the bond between them snaps and leaves behind a gaping hole in his mind, jagged-edged and bleeding.

And the Force just keeps screaming.

...

All Kix feels is pain and screaming, so much that he can't see for the images flashing across his field of vision and the pressure behind his eyes, and he doesn't know what it means except that there's so much loss and he was supposed to- supposed to- he doesn't know and then there's another wave of agony so intense he retches, doubles over and shuts his eyes against an onslaught of images, his vod'e lost and dying and so many wounds that his mind clings to, tries to categorize, and it's like the whole galaxy is burning and shattering and the Force is wailing in his head because this isn't right .

He grabs onto something, somebody's hand, he thinks, feels his nails digging into skin and some tiny part of him is trying to tell him to breathe slower, to find a rhythm and get his breath back but, but it all hurts and he can barely breathe at all, much less try to calm himself, and he doesn't even know where he is and he feels like his heart is stopping, like he's been shot, he thinks, but he can't have been, he would have noticed, and still part of him is saying he should slow down and put his head between his knees and breathe .

The Force doesn't answer him when he reaches for it, it's just full of screaming, and he's alone in the middle of all this pain- but the hand he's clinging to is an anchor, just enough, holds him connected to something other than the images. (His vod'e shooting to kill, crying, panic in their thoughts, only to be cut down themselves and the Jedi they were trying to defend standing alone, as good as helpless. A vod's thoughts full of good soldiers follow orders while something stifling and lost and alone screams please no not this . Cody reaching desperately to hang onto himself, but he just can't and he shoots Kenobi and he's screaming and crying and incoherent because he's killed his Jedi but it doesn't matter because he's served his purpose.) Kix can't do anything to help them, can only cling onto the hand he's holding (Jesse, it's Jesse) and swallow back sick and bile.

Kenobi. He… Cody shot Kenobi. He was supposed to- a padawan screaming for his Master, who's lying dead on the ground - he was supposed to help Kenobi. Protect him. He tightens his hand around Jesse's, so hard he feels bones grinding and that's too much, he should let go because he's carving into Jesse's hand and he, he doesn't… He has to help.

He reaches for the Force again, and it's not listening to him, not answering, so he just latches onto the power and draws it into himself (and something reminds him not too much ), forces his eyes open, tries to drive away all the images. (He feels a stab of pain and terror and it belongs to the Duchess, icy and terrified and not him, please, don't take him from me, and loss and horror and he wants to tell her he's not dead .) He reaches out, finds Kenobi's wrist and feels for a pulse, struggles to stay focused on this, on healing, on protecting , on not drowning in all the screaming. The General is alive, like he thought, but the Force tells him not long so he focuses on the power and the injury and starts knitting things back together, shifting muscle and tissue where it needs to be, and he doesn't know how to do this, this is so bad , but it's a surgery and it brings him focus, surety, a way to shield against the pain. He can finally ease his grip on Jesse's hand.

...

When Anakin, Ahsoka, and Obi-Wan finally come sprinting into the Senate chamber, lightsabers glowing in their hands, backed by the entire 501st and 212th, Satine feels nothing but sweet, heady relief, because now this nightmare will be over. A few troopers-two in 501st blue, two in 212th orange-take up a position just outside the repulsorpod she's sharing with Padmè and Bail Organa, and she nods at them, grateful. They nod back, train their blasters on the Chancellor-

And then the Chancellor says, the words echoing around the cavernous chamber with a strange, heavy weight, like the ponderousness of inevitability, like gravity, "Execute Order Sixty-Six."

All around the room, clone troopers freeze, and then-

And then-

Satine has a perfect view of the three Jedi, a perfect front-row seat (just far enough away she cannot do a thing to help) to watch as Commander Cody raises his blaster like he's done this his whole life (he has) and in one fluid motion he takes aim and fires, before Anakin or Ahsoka or Obi-Wan realize, and she flings her hand out as though she could do something, but she can't-she can't stop it as the trigger depresses and the blaster barks and the bolt flies blue-white and embeds itself in Obi-Wan's back, directly between his shoulder blades.

Satine screams.

He falls.

Cody is firing at Anakin now, and the ARC trooper, Fives, jumps in the way, and she sees, vaguely, Rex's squad stunning Cody, but she cannot take her eyes off the prone form lying unmoving on the floor, and she can't even tell if he's still breathing.

She thinks she might still be screaming.

Around the room, the carefully-constructed perimeter is falling apart as clones fire on each other, some with blasters set to stun, the majority with blasters set to kill, and-and-and she can't let the Jedi die, she has to stop this, so she spins to face the four troopers, sees one of the 212th with his blaster firing killshots, his back to her, and she lunges, drives her heel into the back of his knee, grabs his blaster arm as he tries to turn and fire at her-forces his arm to twist and aim the blaster at the other 212th trooper, who is also killing, and she's sobbing because the clone she's fighting fires and she twists the blaster and the bolt slams home into the other one's chest and she can't breathe, she can't, she can't, she drives an elbow into the gap between his helmet and collarbone, feels something snap as the strike connects, and he goes limp in her hands and she's shaking as she pulls the blaster from his hand, tosses it at Padme, and she runs to the other dead clone (she did this, she killed him) and grabs his blaster and sets it to stun (it doesn't matter, she's killed) and starts to run (one of the two 501st troopers is dead, the other nursing an injured arm, but he falls in behind her and Padme), because she has to get to Obi-Wan.

She aims and fires on the run, falling back on years of combat training from her early childhood, and stun pulses aren't very effective over long distances and she knows how to snipe and so she flicks the switch back to kill and starts hitting knees, hands, shoulders, and there are tears pouring down her cheeks and she can barely see, barely breathe, and she's dizzy and trembling but her hands are steady and for a minute she's back on Mandalore during the war and she can't-she doesn't-she's not sure where she is, her aim slips and a blaster bolt flies true and hits between the eyes and she's screaming silently (the moment we commit to fighting, we have already lost).

She-

Someone tackles her, knocks the blaster from her hands, and she instinctively kicks out, feels her booted heel smash into a helmet, feels the helmet snap back, the hands around her ankles loosening, and she rolls, grabs her blaster and leaps to her feet and fires and she's not thinkingand it takes a moment to register that she'd killed him without even knowing if he's friendly or not and his armor is 501st blue and she retches, dry-heaving, her breaths coming quick and short and panting, and Padmè is there somewhere shooting with precision as perfect as her hairdo, and-and she can't do this but she can't stop herself, her body reacting on instinct and training and they're dying and she thinks she might faint but her body doesn't even let her do that, and she sobs and kills and prays to the Force or whatever is listening that Obi-Wan will survive.

...

The bond is thrumming with a pain so intense that Rex can't focus - he needs to be thinking about his men and the fight (and he stuns another squad of brothers, dives behind a column to avoid blasterfire) but Ahsoka is in pain and he doesn't understand because when he looks at her he doesn't see injury and she's moving fine. But her mind is full of distant screaming and he's so afraid for her and that can't be priority right now.

He sees Senator Amidala and Duchess Kryze and Senator Organa and some of the other Senators fighting and that should be good, but he can see most of them are killing his vod'e and he understands but they're his brothers and this isn't their fault . He's still stunning them and that's slower going, more dangerous, but that means they'll all wake up.

"Work your way around toward the Senators!" he orders. The only goal here is subduing his brothers, but if they have somewhere to push toward, it will be easier for them to stay focused and not be overwhelmed by how many of their vod'e they have to fight.

Their perimeter is in shambles because every vod that still has a chip is trying to get to Anakin and Ahsoka in the center of the chamber and they're shooting to kill. But that does mean they aren't paying enough attention to Rex's men, so it's easier to flank them and take them out and Rex knows they're distracted, that this is all so that the Chancellor is safe and secure and his vod'e are suffering because of him.

And he's the voice in their nightmares.

Him and the Senate, shouting kill the Jedi and execute Order Sixty-Six .

He shoots and his brothers fall and in the press of soldiers in blue in orange, the only thing that separates friend from foe is whether or not their vod'e are trying to kill them.

This is Umbara and Kamino again, this is everything he has always promised he couldn't allow to happen, and he is failing to protect his brothers and barely protecting his Jedi and he knows at least every clone on Coruscant had to have heard the orders through the comms in their helmets and he can't help them and they'll be slaughtered for something they can't control and if he'd only made sure the chips had been removed sooner maybe this wouldn't be happening- but he can't think about that now, he just can't.

They're going to be able to do this, he thinks - it's the aftermath he's afraid of, it's the Chancellor and how many of his vod'e will be dead and the pain he still feels tearing at his mind through the bond. Still, he pushes forward with his squad and shoots to stun, not to kill, because he's not killing more vod'e today . Enough of them are dying here already.

...

Ahsoka can't think.

Somewhere in front of her is a cluster of vod'e led by Commander Fox, and she knows she and Anakin need to take them out, have to get to Sidious before he slips out, but the Force is screaming and there's so much pain and she's drowning in tears. Even with her good shielding, she can't block out the sensations-

(A young padawan screams as his bond with his Master shatters into a thousand fragments; a Master struggles to block blaster shots from her battalion, tears streaming down her face as her loyal troopers fall one-by-one trying to protect her; a Knight she knows is shot down in midair by the men he thought were watching his six.)

There's so much.

(She feels every death, the Force twisting inside-out and turning in knots, shouting wrong wrong wrong at her, and she can't get away.)

Snips, focus! Anakin snaps, and she shudders, tries to draw away from the pain drenching the Force, but she can't block it out completely, just somewhat muffle it, and it's exhausting. Still, she has to focus; she draws in a shaky breath, focuses on deflecting blaster bolts and not killing brothers, even though it'd be easier, simpler, to just kill them.

"Fives!" she shouts, barely recognizes her own voice; the ARC trooper jogs up near her right side, and she deflects a blast away from him. "Get these troopers down, now!"

"Yes, sir!" he says, and gestures at the rest of the squad (except Kix, who's with Obi-Wan, and Jesse, who refused to leave Kix's side), and it takes time but these are the best of the best and Commander Fox's troops have never even been off Coruscant, and Fives is an ARC trooper.

Soon enough, only Fox himself is still protecting Sidious, and he's good at dodging the stun blasts. Ahsoka decides this is taking too long, and she flings one hand out and shoves and Fox goes flying off the podium, hits the floor somewhere else, she doesn't pay attention.

Anakin launches himself from where he's been fighting more vod'e, and with a Force-augmented jump he lands on the podium next to Sidious, his blue 'saber raised high-

The Force screams a warning.

Master, watch out!

Anakin twists to one side, narrowly avoiding a lurid red lightsaber that would've gutted him had she not warned him-Ahsoka snarls and leaps onto the top of the podium, brings her two silver 'sabers crashing down towards Sidious' head, but his 'saber flashes and blocks her and she doesn't even see his hand move but she's suddenly flying through the air, and she hits-something, something cracks, stars flashing in front of her eyes, and oh kriff that hurts.

 **SNIPS!**

I'm alright, she tries to reassure Anakin, and she drags herself to her feet, slowly, calls her 'sabers back to her hands. Anakin and Sidious are dueling, their lightsabers just a blur of motion, and then Sidious leaps back onto a repulsorpod. Anakin does the same, finds another pod and directs it towards Sidious-and then the Sith Lord gestures and one of the occupied pods slams into Anakin's. Ahsoka growls, throws out her hand, because the Senator in the pod is about to fall (Anakin can handle himself), and then she Force-jumps back up, lands on Sidious' pod, throws herself into her attack again.

He's so strong.

There's a constant heavy, oppressing Dark surrounding her, anger and hatred and fear weighing her down, and that combined with the way the Force is still choking with pain makes it hard to focus, to concentrate on blocking and trading blows, but he's so fast and she can barely keep up, even pulling on the Force as hard as she can to keep up, to give her more speed, more strength, more balance. Master, I need you! she calls, desperate, fending off another series of complex blows, a form she's never seen before.

Coming, Snips, Anakin says, and then suddenly he's flipping up onto the pod with them, raining down blows, but Sidious doesn't even falter and he's laughing and she doesn't understand why because it's two-on-one and he should at least be worried but he isn't even winded, isn't even fazed, and then suddenly he extends one hand at her-she instinctively moves to counter a Force-push-

And then there's just pain.

(She's on her knees on rock and dirt, screaming until her voice gives out, pain like nothing she's ever felt before stabbing through her, and she wants Rex and she wants out and she can't breathe around the collar and the whip hisses through the air and she cowers, sobs, please don't, Master, please don't, begging and coughing and huddled in a tiny ball, sparks dancing across her skin, she can't breathe, can't breathe, Rex please please make it stop it hurts I can't-)

...

The fighting around Senator Amidala and the others is intense , but the rest of the chamber is secured and that means this is the last push before Rex can think about Ahsoka and the Chancellor. His battalion and the 212th, what's left of them, are engaging their vod'e on both sides and if they can just break through to the Senators, his men can worry about subduing their vod'e and he and his squad can worry about their Jedi.

He twists out of the way of an errant blaster bolt, although it singes his pauldron, and fires back at the shooter with both DCs (and the Senators are killing his brothers and it shouldn't matter so much right now). He sees his squad running along the length of the terrace towards them and that's good, he wants their backup.

He snaps his attention back to the battle and shoves a vod out of the way of a series of killshots and- and he feels a flash of pain, horribly familiar, and Ahsoka is reaching for him desperately, aching,begging him to please help Rex I can't, please, and he whirls in place, barely notices his men closing in around him because this is too familiar , he remembers this, and above the sounds of battle and blasterfire he hears her screaming and for a moment he's back in the pit, seeing her writhing in the ground with a whip curled around her headtail.

Ahsoka! He reaches back across their bond for her mind and he finds her, collapsed against the side of a pod and there's blue lightning arcing from the Chancellor's fingers and Anakin looks like a madman but he can't get past the Chancellor's guard and Rex can't reach her and it's all happening again and he can't move , can't breathe because, because-

They've pinned him to the ground, a staff digging into the small of his back and it all hurts and his body won't respond and she's **screaming** and he's failing her-

Rex drags himself out of the memory with a harsh effort, lifts his blasters again, not sure what he's going to do, only that he has to help , but then Ahsoka's pain subsides fast, the relief almost as intense as the agony, and Rex looks up to see that Anakin has managed to get between the Chancellor and Ahsoka, his saber up, blocking the electricity, and he nudges Ahsoka's mind and feels her respond.

That has to be good enough, he has to fight. Has to. He shrugs off one of his brothers' hand and straightens, pushes back to the front of their line. They're so close, they just need to do this. Please be safe, Soka , he thinks, tastes electricity on his tongue and feels a twinge of pain in old scars. Please .

...

Kato freezes, when the order first sounds; only about half of the 327th has had their chips out, but General Secura had taken the mission to Felucia anyway, even though Commander Bly still has his chip in and really they should wait until their Commander at least is free.

But the Council had asked, and General Secura had accepted, and honestly, the 327th is plenty good for this mission-

At least, until the order comes over their helmet comms.

Kato isn't new to the battalion, but he's not ranking at all; still, when he starts motioning at his vod'e without chips, they all form up on him without question. "What do we do, Kato?" one of the shinies asks, and Kato swallows, because how is he supposed to know the answer to that question?

But he has to answer, so… "We find the General," he says shortly, and the shiny nods.

"Right, Kato, let's go."

Kato jogs through the thick Felucia underbrush (seriously, all this plant life is ridiculous, both their own battalion and the Separatist droids are having trouble in it, why the kriff does anyone even want this stupid planet), blasters out; he motions his squad forward, ducks around the edge of one of those stupid frilly tree-things, and-almost slams into his General. Her lightsaber is out and her eyes are wild and she almost cuts him in half before he raises his hands quickly. "Woah there, General, we're clean!"

"I can't do this for long," she says, and she's shaky and scared and Kato has never seen General Secura like this before.

"Blasters set to stun, everybody," he calls, adjusting his own. "We'll help, General, we've got your six, just get to a ship. We need to abandon this mission and get the kriff off this rock if we're going to survive-"

"I know that, Kato, thank you," and Secura's blue lightsaber snaps up and deflects another blaster bolt into the trooper that'd fired it. "We must hurry."

Kato tries not to focus on the fact that his General has just killed vod'e, because you can't set a lightsaber to stun and she's got to protect herself somehow, but those are his brothers and it's not their fault they've still got a chip in their heads, kriffing Council didn't give them enough time! He takes a careful breath, fires a stun pulse at one of the vod'e following them-

"Kato, you do realize that leaving them here unconscious on a Separatist-occupied world is a death sentence, right?" Secura glances back at him, her face mostly unreadable, though her lekku are writhing in complicated patterns and he really wishes he could understand what they're communicating.

"I know that," he snaps out, too tense to bother with protocol, "but what choice do we have, General?"

She nods, looks away. "I know."

They round another one of those tree-things, and Kato jerks his blasters up because there's vod'e there, but Secura is faster, deflecting every single bolt shot at them back into his brothers, and-and he swears, because this isn't good, they're dying and he can't-

Suddenly, Secura staggers and falls to her knees, her 'saber falling from her hands as she raises them to her temples, curling over herself. Kato jams his blasters into their holsters, orders his men to form a perimeter with hand signals, and he crouches down beside her because if they don't have their Jedi they'll never get out of here. "General? What's wrong?"

"I can feel it," she whispers, and her voice is so faint and he swallows back more swearing. "They're dying, Kato, so much pain, I can't-"

He hesitantly puts his hands on her shoulders, squeezes a bit. "What is it you always tell us, General, about staying focused on the present?"

"We must-remain in the here-and-now," she manages, and he nods.

"Yeah, that. Look, General, the here-and-now is that we're all going to die if we don't stay focused, and we can fall apart once we survive this, right?" He's really kriffing bad at this comforting thing. "Can't you… I don't know, put up shields or something?"

She nods hesitantly, looks up at him with a spark of strength in her eyes again. "Yes, of course, you're right-"

That's when the screams begin.

Kato spins, pulls his blasters out as fast as he can, but he's still too slow: it's Commander Bly and his squad, and Secura is on the ground and her 'saber is still away and his men are dying and-and (he's failing her, his General, he has to protect her, has to keep her alive, but he's not good enough and he can't do it)-

Kato fires, again and again, but he's only one man against the best of his battalion; the first blaster bolt hits his knee, and he stumbles, but keeps firing anyway, presses his back to his General's and tries to stay upright because he has to protect her, and it hurts but he's had worse, he'll be alright.

The second shot slams home into his stomach and this time he can't quite keep his feet, and he staggers and he's falling and a lightsaber hisses over his head, deflects another shot, and he's trying to get to his feet but there's another impact in his right shoulder and he can't breathe, his lungs won't work, but he can still shoot and so he does, he flips his blaster off stun and starts firing, one-two-three-four, and then there's more pain somewhere in his left hand and his fingers are screaming but he clenches the mangled remains of his gauntlet around his blaster anyway and keeps firing, keeps firing, protect the General, and he can't quite see through the spots in his vision and so he reaches up with his better hand (his shoulder is agony) and pulls off his helmet, and that helps a little but not much, and the General needs his help so he somehow jams his right hand into the ground and forces himself upright, shoots a clone between their eyes-

"Kato, down!"

He drops on instinct (some distant part of him thinks there was more than a little Force-suggestion in that order, but he can't quite block it out right now), and dizziness makes the world spin but he can still see the General taking the shot meant for him in the chest and he screams, drags himself halfway-sitting up, fires again and again and again, and his General is on one knee barely able to keep deflecting bolts and he's failing herand he can't-he can't do this.

"General!" He means the word to be a shout, but a bolt buries itself in the leg he's kneeling on and it's more a whimpering scream of raw paintearing itself out of his throat.

"You've done well, Kato," she says, soft, and blocks another bolt, and he fires again and his aim is wildly off and kriff this! "Very-well," and he thinks another shot must make it past her guard because she sucks in a sharp, awful breath and he swears and tries to take out Commander Bly but he can't because there's another shot that brushes so close to his head he feels the heat on his ear and then he can't hear and there's a yelp of pain and-

No!

It should've killed him, but instead it slammed into the General's spine and now she falls, her 'saber hits the ground with an audible thunk and he tries to raise his hand to fire but there's another bolt and another and another and so much pain and the last thing he knows is that he's failed.

...

Brii hadn't been there on Kamino when the chips activated the first time. He's been grateful for that many times, when his vod'e talk about it. He never wanted to see those chips in action, never wanted to have to face that.

He never wanted to fight his brothers again either, but he is today. And this is worse than he'd ever thought - he's never seen vod'e with such blank eyes, so little expression, and it feels like a nightmare come to life, like the dream he has where Stiff and his other dead brothers come for him because it's his fault and he's the one who killed them.

But today he isn't killing, and he has to remember that. He isn't killing his brothers.

He's sticking close to Fives, because Fives is injured and Brii isn't, so he has to watch his back, and they've almost gotten through to Rex and the others. He's been told before that he hyperfocuses too much when he's fighting, and he can't help falling into that a little, all his senses concentrated on the blaster in his hands and the decision of enemy or friend . Staying close to Fives also means he doesn't have to think about where to go; he just follows his squad and shoots with an artist's precision, smooth and direct and as practiced as if he's done this for years (although he hasn't).

Tup grabs his elbow and yanks him out of it, snaps his fingers by his face. "Brii, you gotta pay attention. Come on."

There's a break in the line of opponents, and Brii realizes they can get through to the group of Senators, who are… who… "They're killing us," Brii says softly, and Tup scowls but pushes him forward.

"I know, vod ."

"Tup, they can't ," Brii says, and he knows his ori'vod knows, but nobody's stopping them and the troopers around them are dying and it isn't right.

"I know , kid," Tup growls, but he's just falling into position around the Senators with the rest of the squad and Brii knows he's supposed to do the same but when he does he looks out at his vod'e , attacking them, and a blaster bolt slams into a vod in 212th orange and he falls and Brii feels sick . These are his brothers, he can't just stand here and let them be killed - and another trooper takes aim at their little group but is shot between the eyes before he can fire.

And Brii knows these troopers will kill them and he knows they have to protect the Senators and their Jedi, but they don't deserve this, they don't even know what they're doing, and he recognizes the armor paint of Whistle, a vod he's done tattoos for, and he can't let them hurt him or any of the others.

He's too impulsive, he always has been - that's his only excuse for spinning around, turning his back on the enemy and facing the Senators (people he's not qualified to speak with, at all), and shouting at them . "Stop firing! You have to stop firing, please!"

"The kriff , vod! " Tup shouts, shoves him into the circle towards the Senators so he doesn't get killed. Brii ignores whatever his friend says next, runs to a Rodian senator and grabs his arm even though he knows that's too familiar but it doesn't matter because they're killing his vod'e .

"You need to set your blaster to stun, please, you can't kill them!"

The Senator shakes off his hand, shoots him a look . "That's not an option, clone. They're trying to kill us."

Brii staggers a little, shakes his head. "You have to !"

The Senator ignores him, keeps shooting, and Brii shakes his head, stumbles back, searching frantically for someone who'll listen to him. There's Senator Amidala, he's at least seen her before- but then he sees familiar bright blond hair and he recognizes the Duchess Satine. She'd fixed up his wounds in the med bay, he knows her, she'll listen to him, and he runs to her, ignores Tup shouting at him to get back to his squad .

"Duchess!" He's shouting long before he even gets to her, and she doesn't even seem to notice him, she's just aiming and firing and he reaches for her arm, grabs her elbow and she yanks away from him, flinching, and she's crying . "Duchess, please, you can't shoot my brothers."

For a moment he doesn't even think she recognizes he's not an enemy, so he yanks off his helmet and drops it on the floor, reaching automatically for her blaster. She pulls it out of his reach and lifts it, fires at a vod from the 212th and the bolt destroys his blaster. He keeps coming anyway and Brii goes for the blaster again because she'll kill him and she isn't listening .

"Please!" he says, desperately, and she finally actually looks at him, and she looks lost and scared and her eyes are a little unfocused and he just has to convince someone , anyone.

"I'm not fast enough on stun," she says softly, and it scares him how hoarse her voice is, how much she's crying. He's choking on his own tears and he just wants them to stop, wants to save his vod'e and end this nightmare and that means making her listen . "I'm sorry, I don't want to, but I have to ."

"They don't know what they're doing, Duchess, please . You can't kill them, this isn't their fault!"

"I know ," she says, and she takes aim at the trooper whose blaster she destroyed and Brii barely stops himself from tackling her.

"Please," he says, desperate, pleading. "Please, you can't , they're my brothers ."

She's breathing too fast and he doesn't know what he's doing but he has to fix this .

"I can't let them kill anyone else." She's almost whispering. "They already killed Obi, I can't-"

"We can stop them without killing, just stop , just…" Brii doesn't have the right words and his vod is still advancing on them, all their attackers are, and the Duchess looks so lost but then she seems to focus on something, realize something, and her hands shake a little and she seems to shrink, her shoulders curling forward, and breathes a name, choked.

" Click. "

Brii takes the moment to pivot, tries to hold his hand as steady on his blaster as he can, and fires three pulses at his vod ; two of them connect and he pitches to the ground. Then Brii reaches for the Duchess again, grabs her arm. " Please, please, Duchess, enough , please."

And she finally seems to listen ; she swallows convulsively once, takes a few heaving breaths, and when she raises her blaster again for a moment he's panicked because it hasn't worked, he's failed, she hasn't set it to stun and-

She shoots the blasters out of three of his brothers' hands before he can even open his mouth , and he almost forgets to fight himself because it's… it's incredible , and she's hardly even pausing, just destroying their blasters and hardly needing to move, just turning on the balls of her feet and twisting her wrist and Brii has seen only a few soldiers with that level of precision.

She's not killing his vod'e anymore. She listened to him and some of them are still shooting to kill but he did this, he saved these brothers. He raises his own blaster and falls in next to her, shoots his vod'e , doesn't kill them. Not today, not again.

...

Padmè is screaming terror in the back of Anakin's mind, bloody and sharp-edged and entirely relegated to one small corner of her consciousness; she's alive, though, that fear means she's still breathing, and Anakin clings to that knowledge and tries to breathe through the rage pouring through him.

Ahsoka is still trembling from the aftereffects of that much lightning in her system, though she's wielding her silver blades with nearly as much strength and speed as usual. She's dazed, though, something unfocused in her blue eyes, and that would terrify him if he let himself think about it. Instead, he focuses on his anger, stokes it, commands the Force to give him more, more speed, more strength, more energy, more balance, and he leaps from repulsorpod to repulsorpod after Palpatine, snarling, his lightsaber bright blue in his hands, the centerpoint of his power.

(This weapon is your life.)

Palpatine is so good it's insane; Anakin knows he's one of the best lightsaber duelists in the Order, and he's still barely keeping up alone-he thinks most of the other Jedi would be dead by now, wishes he had backup in the form of Master Windu or Obi-Wan (and he cannot think about his Master right now) or kriffing Yoda, as annoying as the little green troll is. Someone. Someone who isn't his young, fierce, anguished padawan. (Ex-padawan?)

Ahsoka flips over the edge of another pod, shoves the edge of it into the pod that he and Palpatine are fighting on, and she twirls her 'sabers and slashes out and Anakin strikes at the same time and Palpatine only has one 'saber, he can't block them both at the same time-

And suddenly, Anakin's lightsaber is crashing into Ahsoka's 'sabers, and Palpatine is driving his red blade towards Ahsoka's side, and Anakin swears, disengages from his padawan and desperately blocks the lightsaber. How the kriff can one man be this kriffing good?

"I feel the hatred within you," Palpatine says. "Use it, Anakin, use its power!"

And for a moment, just for a moment, Anakin considers it. (He's not strong enough this way, the Light isn't enough-)

Ani, no!

And his wife screams in his head, fills him to the brim with love and strength and warmth and compassion, kindness, and it's like she's smiling at him in that way that makes him melt every time, and the hatred's grasp on his mind is broken, blown away like it's nothing, and Anakin takes a deep breath and he smiles. "I'm not Falling, you kriffing di'kut!"

He doesn't think Palpatine actually knows what the Mando'a word means.

Anakin lunges again, and the anger still rages through his veins but he can think, now, he can move with grace instead of raw force, can twist and turn and flip through the moves of Ataru and Djem So mixed together, and he throws in some random twists and maneuvers from the other forms too, and suddenly he can hold his own. He can't overpower Palpatine, of course not, he doesn't think anyone could by themselves, but the Sith Lord is-not quite struggling, but…

And Palpatine knows it.

A wave of raw Force slams into Anakin, knocks him off his pod, and he barely manages to Force-pull another pod underneath him to catch his fall-but he's quite a bit lower now, almost even with the low terrace where his men have reached the Senators and are stunning the last of the vod'ewith chips. He hits the pod hard, hard enough he sees stars, and something cracks in his chest-kriff, probably ribs, Kix is going to be so annoyed- and he can't quite catch his breath; he manages to drag himself to his feet, glances at his men again-Rex is watching him, and Anakin tosses him a halfhearted, sloppy salute, sways a little because his head hurts and he's kriffing dizzy and this is so stupid.

And then Ahsoka's screaming in his mind again, and he swears, Forces the pod upwards, because Palpatine has Ahsoka precariously balanced on the very edge of his pod, and she's screaming aloud too, lightning coursing over her body, and it takes all Anakin's self-control not to just let the hatred take over because he wants Palpatine dead.

Ahsoka stays poised on the edge for a long moment, and then he sees her waver and suddenly she's falling in slow motion, and Anakin shouts and throws his hand out, commands the Force to bring her to him, and at the same time he gestures with the hand holding his lightsaber and throws another pod into Palpatine. The Sith Lord leaps out of his pod, casually lands a little ways below Anakin, and Anakin deactivates his lightsaber long enough to catch Ahsoka as she tumbles into his arms.

She's trembling and he doesn't want to let her go, but he has to. "You should stay here," he rasps out, setting her down carefully on her feet and igniting his lightsaber again.

She shakes her head, like he'd known she'd do, and her silver 'sabers hiss to life again. "No way, Skyguy."

He takes a breath, counts to ten in Mando'a and then Huttese, nods once. "Don't let him hit you again, block the lightning on your lightsaber instead."

And then he jumps.

A part of him notices that his men have finished cleaning up the last of the vod'e, and that the Senators are safe now, but that doesn't matter; what matters is that Palpatine is sending a torrent of lightning at him and Anakin grits his teeth, yanks his 'saber up to block it, even though it's hard. Hurry up, Snips, I can't hold him for long!

I'm coming, Master, and then Ahsoka lands (too heavily) on the other side of Palpatine and she cuts at him with both her 'sabers and the lightning doesn't even slow down as Palpatine reverses his lightsaber and blocks her, easy, effortless. Anakin snarls out a desperate shout, wordless, his arms trembling (there's so much Force coming at him, so much Dark, and he can't-he can't-), and then he shoves and the Force answers his call and Palpatine actually staggers.

The lightning stops.

"Do I have to do everything myself?" he snaps out, only half-joking. "This is not as easy as it looks, Snips!"

Ahsoka's smile is taut and strained, and she swears in his head as Palpatine nearly shoves her off the edge of the pod. I never expected to have to fight a Sith Lord on these things floats across the bond, a stray thought, and he can't help but snort.

Neither did I. And then Palpatine is leaping at him again and he puts all his energy and focus into parrying, tries a few strikes of his own, but he's getting tired and the pace is brutal and the Sith isn't even slowing and this is kriffing insane. "Kriff you," he growls out, blocking a stroke with a staggering amount of sheer power behind it. "I trusted you!"

"Of course you did," Palpatine says gently. "Everyone did, Anakin. That was your downfall."

He's goading you, Ani, don't lose control, Padmè tells him, and Anakin tightens his grip on his 'saber and grits his teeth.

I'm **trying.**

"Good, good," Palpatine says suddenly, and he's smiling. "Let your anger give you strength, Anakin. Use it."

"Master, don't," Ahsoka says, and then Palpatine lifts his left hand and clenches his fingers and suddenly Ahsoka's lifted up in the air, clawing desperately at her throat, her eyes bugging out, her 'sabers forgotten on the pod's floor.

"Do it, Skywalker," and suddenly Palpatine's voice is so so sharp, "or your apprentice dies."

"No, Anakin!" But Ahsoka's choking and she can barely get the words past her lips and she's struggling and her eyes are going unfocused and he-he-

He can't do this.

...

When he'd felt Ahsoka's pain flare sharp and electric for a second time, Rex had almost screamed for her. His voice had stuck in his throat and he couldn't breathe at all, felt it aching in his chest, and all he could think was not again, please, no, no, no and he couldn't do this ; he'd rushed to the edge of the terrace, half-planning to commandeer a pod and go to her because he would not be helpless again, would not waste time here while his Jedi needed him. He'd reached desperately for her thoughts, found them in confusion, and then he'd felt and saw her fall . And he wasn't going to be fast enough, he wasn't going to be able to help-

But the General had caught her.

So now he's trying to focus on his men, on reforming some kind of secure perimeter and maintaining a guard around the Senators, all while controlling a mounting panic. He tells his men what to do if their vod'e wake up ("give them a blaster or something to do"), comms Jesse. "How's Kix? You both alright?" He deliberately doesn't yet focus on Anakin and Ahsoka because her movements are heavy and clumsy and her thoughts still hum with pain, and Anakin is so angry - which would be fine except angry fighters make mistakes and they can't afford that.

"We're okay - I don't know, Kix is concentrating really hard but I don't know if we can save him, Rex - you know Cody knows what he's doing."

Rex taps off the comm because he looks up and sees Duchess Satine staring at him hollowly - she doesn't look good, at all, and Rex remembers she's a pacifist. Today is not a good day for her to be here.

Senator Amidala approaches him, eyes bright with terror and he can't help but glance over at the duel again because he knows she feels the same fear he does. "I can be part of the guard, Captain," she says, holds up her blasters (one a small, sleek thing she must carry with her and one that belonged to a vod ).

Rex just shoves her back behind his line of men, knows that shocks the other Senators. "Senator, you're staying here. " Lowering his voice, he adds, "I need Anakin to know you're safe."

Senator Amidala glares at him, but he doesn't pay attention because she's staying put, and that's enough. He can hear Anakin and the Chancellor talking, something about trust and anger and Rex wants to help .

But he doesn't really know how (because tactically, everything he wants to try is a serious risk), but then that stops mattering because he feels sudden pain and terror and he spins around, sprints to the edge of the terrace because his breath catches with hers but when he breathes out, she still can't. The Chancellor stands, arm lifted, fingers curled as if he's grasping for something he needs, and Rex's Jedi is hanging suspended, fingers scrabbling at her scarred neck but there's nothing to fight and Rex isn't even thinking when he leaps over the terrace edge onto a pod, waves his hand and growls, "Squad, with me!" and they follow. He can feel a blur of white noise cutting off the edges of her thoughts and he has to get to her, **now**. Rex scrambles with the controls of the pod because he doesn't kriffing know how to work it but he has to get to Ahsoka; thankfully Fives pushes him out of the way and hits a button that moves them out into the air.

Rex jumps up onto the edge of the pod, finds his footing and his balance (although Fives is pushing their pod so fast it's hard to stay steady) and gets a sightline on the Chancellor. Anakin seems afraid to move, and the Chancellor turns his head and gives Rex an ironic smile, curls his fingers.

Rex's smile is a shark's smile, all teeth, and he raises his blasters and shoots without even pausing. He knows his aim is good as the Chancellor flinches, yanks his arm back, and one of Rex's shots still grazes his forearm. But it doesn't matter if it connected because he's dropped Ahsoka and she hits the floor and Rex can feel awareness returning, can feel her scrambling to pull it together and he drops back down into his pod, sends her strength.

"Good job, Captain," Fives says, tense, and Rex nods.

"Kriffing get us over there now ."

...

Ahsoka curls on the floor of the pod, gasping, sucking in all the oxygen she can and trying to still her shaking muscles. Her 'sabers are there, near her, and she focuses on just picking them up, one thing at a time, and it's hard but she manages, clings to Rex's mind. He's sending her strength, and she can feel his fear and she has to get up.

Anakin is fighting Sidious again, and she's grateful for that, because that means the Sith's attention is not on her, and she's shaking, and she knows she shouldn't feel like that but she almost can't make herself attack again because she just wants to hide, to escape his notice. There's so much lingering pain and she can't quite catch her breath, keep the rhythm even; her heart is pounding and she's dizzy and scared and this is too much, she's not ready for this, and-

Something in the room shifts.

She lifts her head, focuses with an effort on the terrace-sees the entire Council storming in with lightsabers alight, finally, and Sidious notices it too because she sees his free hand angle changing and something in her screams and cowers and-

Don't let him hit you again, block the lightning on your lightsaber instead.

Ahsoka jerks to her feet and snaps her 'sabers out just in time to catch the lightning as it crackles through the air; it feels like trying to hold back an explosion, like blocking fire, and she shouts and leans into her 'sabers, gritting her teeth and straining against the power. (There are bruises around her neck and her throat aches and she can't breathe but it doesn't matter.)

Anakin's 'saber is a blur, and yet Sidious is keeping up with him so easily, red blade flashing in lurid crimson lines across her vision, and somehow he's still keeping up the lightning and she doesn't understand it, because he's only one man, how can he be so strong? "Master," she calls, warningly, hopes he'll be able to do something, but he can't and then-

And then there's sudden blasterfire, and another repulsorpod knocks into theirs; Ahsoka screams out a warning, "Get down!" and her men obey without question and the deflected bolts sear into the empty space where they had just been standing. And that's hardly accomplished anything,but at least the lightning's stopped and she can breathe a little and she focuses on attacking again, but she's too slow and Sidious keeps twisting out of the way and causing her to hit Anakin's 'saber, which is not helpful and she doesn't know what to do and-

And suddenly Sidious throws his free hand out, and a wave of Force slams into her squad's pod, and Ahsoka snarls and flings herself at the Sith Lord again because he will not hurt her men, not them, not any of them, and she can't let herself look for the Council again but she hopes desperately they're on their way.

...

This time when Rex's men fire on the Chancellor, they know to wait till he has his guard down, know they can't let him deflect the bolts at their Jedi like with Krell. Rex thinks they've badly damaged their pod but that will have to wait; as long as they're in the air and can reach their Jedi it'll have to do.

They drop down on Ahsoka's shout with an ease that comes from years under her command, and Rex hears Fives groan a little as he hits the floor of the pod. "Be careful , Fives."

"I know, sir."

Ahsoka is much lighter on her feet than she should be and Rex recognizes that fluid strength and the power flowing through her mind that's enabling it, can't help but appreciate the dangerous light in her eyes - but it's not enough , she and Anakin are the best duelists he's seen, at least, but the Chancellor doesn't even seem bothered by his heavy robes, and it's just one saber against two but Rex can tell he's an intelligent fighter, a calculating one. He curls his fingers in a hand signal and his squad gets back to their feet, aims at the Chancellor, and they just need one opening because unlike Krell, the Chancellor only has one saber and Anakin and Ahsoka are keeping him plenty busy.

Then there's a flash of a glance at them, and Rex sees the Chancellor's hand move suddenly in a familiar gesture, and he just has time to brace himself before a wave of force, like a wall of water, knocks into him and his squad and slams some of them into the back of the pod, he and the rest to the floor like felled trees. He keeps a death grip around his blasters, struggles to force himself back to his feet, knows his men are doing the same. Ahsoka feels angry and he sees her redoubling her attack on the Chancellor with a speed and grace he's only seen a few times before. He grits his teeth and presses his hands against the floor of the pod, shoves himself to his hands and knees and then upright, bringing up his blasters again. He knows he's out of his depth and he shouldn't be here but they need to defend their Jedi.

Rex keeps his focus on the Chancellor, although he glances to his left and sees General Windu and Master Yoda headed for them on a pod of their own, and he can't help a small sigh of relief because there's no way the Chancellor can take on all four of them. His squad forms up behind him again and he thinks he sees an opening, maybe, the Chancellor is focused on Ahsoka and her attack and Fives has a good line on him - "Fives!"

The ARC trooper sees what he sees, of course he does, and his friend fires twice, fast, and strikes the Chancellor in the hip, making him stagger. The Sith recovers faster than he should, strikes harder against Ahsoka's guard and twists out of the way of a thrust from Anakin and Rex swears ; the injury should have slowed him down but it just seems to have annoyed him.

Rex takes a shot himself, almost hits the Sith in the back but he manages to move so it deflects off Ahsoka's saber instead, and then he actually looks at them, eyes narrowing like he's trying to decide whether they're worth his effort.

It's Brii who decides it, shoots and the bolt doesn't connect but it does sear the sleeves of the Chancellor's robe and clearly they've been enough of a nuisance, because the Chancellor twists his lips in an animal sneer and reaches out, pushes again and Rex swears but he just can't hold his feet, is thrown back into Tup and they hit the floor together, his head slamming hard into Tup's pauldron. He can't see for a second, and he suddenly feels Ahsoka shout in his head, a warning that echoes across their bond to **move.** He does, grabs Tup's armor and yanks both of them to one side on instinct, feels more than sees a saber slashing into the floor where he'd just been.

He twists, fires automatically towards where he knows the Chancellor is, trying to drag himself back to his feet, and it's hard but he blinks, focuses, has his blasters trained on the Chancellor before he even knows what's happening.

Fives is shooting already, up on his feet, eyes dangerous, and Rex tries to fire at the Chancellor's back so he isn't too focused on any one of them, but it doesn't work because the Chancellor just slashes his saber through Fives' blasters and in the same sweep of his weapon deflects Rex's bolts, twists around and slams his saber through Fives' chest while flinging out a hand, pushing Dogma off the pod and Rex feels his heart slam painfully in his chest once, twice, no no no no no , and he's choking but Brii is too close to the Chancellor so he pushes himself to swallow the horror and run, to get between them, but his men are all here and the space is too small and so what if he's in front of Brii, he's no match for the Chancellor either and Fives is lying on floor and the Chancellor reaches out again, curls his fingers into claws, and electricity arcs from them to Tup, who still hasn't managed to stand. Rex roars , hears Brii screaming, and it's too much, he can't let the bastard hurt any more of his men, and at this point he's just shooting blindly and he thinks he's reaching for Ahsoka.

The Chancellor's lightning stops and he waves his hand, and their pod grinds free from Anakin and Ahsoka's and Rex catches Ahsoka's eyes for a second, can't help thinking please , and their pod lists a little to one side and drops a few feet in the air. Rex hardly knows what the Chancellor's doing with the pod, though, because he's turning on Tuck and Rex can't let him , not Tuck - he launches himself at the Sith, knows it's stupid but he can't see another of his vod'e killed by that saber. He grabs his saber arm, jams his blaster into the Chancellor's back, starts to pull the trigger but his arm is thrown to one side and the bolt flies uselessly into an empty pod.

The Chancellor doesn't try to get his arm free, just twirls his saber in his hand and stabs it down into Rex's thigh and he howls, lets go and falls back to try to get some distance from that red blade - he stumbles over Fives' body and he can't , can't do this.

They're coming, Rex, you just have to stay out of his way , Ahsoka thinks, desperate but quiet enough that it doesn't distract him, but it doesn't matter because he doesn't have enough space to retreat and his heel finds the wall of the pod and he sees Brii moving, blaster in hand, and the kid cannot attack the Chancellor, it's not an option , so Rex shoots past the Chancellor's side, hits Brii's knee and the kid stumbles, and he hopes he can hold the Chancellor's attention long enough for someone to get there but Brii is trying to get back to his feet and Rex needs him to stay downand his leg burns and he should be paying more attention to the Chancellor, not that it will do him any good - he fires fast with both blasters, one-two-three-four, and the Chancellor deflects his bolts, one of them into his shin and he shouts because it hurts and he's not prepared for this and

The saber moves fast, smooth, brutal, and Rex can't even register for a moment, there's no pain right away and he doesn't quite understand except the vibrant red blade is sticking out of his stomach and then it feels like his insides ignite , and the world turns ashen around the edges and he can't hold onto his blasters anymore, reaches for Palpatine's wrist, the hilt of the saber, to get it out , but he doesn't have the strength and there's screaming in the back of his mind and he doesn't know where her pain ends and his begins but he can't get enough breath to make a sound. Then the red blade pulls free of his stomach with a twist and he gasps and it burns , he can't even think , and he collapses on himself like he's breaking in half, doesn't even know when he hits the floor because it already hurts so much and he's dimly aware of Palpatine looking down at him with disdain , shaking his head, of a voice (it's Palpatine's voice, he thinks, his mouth is moving) saying, "What a waste" and he doesn't know, he thinks he has to get up , someone needs him , but he can't kriffing move and he's choking and he can't , it's all vague and fuzzy and lost.

His hand finds something, someone's arm, he thinks, and he grabs on, clings to that anchor point as the world turns white.


	2. Chapter 2

Ahsoka tries to get her troops, her squad, to back off when they start firing on Sidious; she knows this can only turn bad, but they don't listen,maybe don't even hear her. She redoubles her attack on the Sith Lord, but she's too angry and she's hurting and scared and she slips up, makes a mistake, and there's a line of fire burning down the outside of her left arm and the Force slams into her, sends her tumbling to her knees, and a part of her distantly registers that Anakin's taken a 'saber to the knee and he's staggering, and then Sidious shoves and she feels the Force respond and her men go flying like discarded toys and she screams in Rex's mind because Sidious is leaping across the space between the two pods, 'saber arcing in a dangerous strike down to embed itself in the floor of the pod. She forces herself to her feet, swaying a little, the world going white-noise staticky around the edges, and tries to bridge the gap between the pods but she can't because her squad's pod is screeching with the groaning of metal collapsing, durasteel grinding against durasteel, stabbing through her montrals, and she gasps in a breath and reachesbecause she has to get there and Fives is standing, firing, precise and accurate and fire in his eyes and-

And then Sidious moves and Fives' face goes pale and he looks down and Ahsoka follows his gaze to see the lurid red blade sprouting from his chest and his mouth gapes a little, almost comical, and she's screaming and so is Anakin, she thinks, struggling to try and get to his feet, and then Fives falls and Sidious turns back to her with a smirk on his face and he says, "Oh, good, Padawan," and the hatred burning a hole through her chest rages and she can't-she can't-she wants to wipe that smirk off his face but the pod falls more and she's powerless to stop it. "Do you feel the hatred?"

And it's Dogma who's flung off the side of the pod, slamming into the floor far below with a sickening snap and she makes to leap the distance without thinking but a wall of Force throws her back against the far wall of her pod again, and she can't breathe, it's too much, too much, she's screaming and sobbing and choking and she just wants this to stop.

By the time she manages to get back to her feet again, swaying dizzily, stars flashing in front of her vision, Rex is bodily attacking Sidious, trying to fire into his spine, and she tries to reach out but the Force refuses, she's been drawing too much on it and her head aches and there's ozone on her tongue and her teeth tingle from electricity and she can't watch this, but she can't move and Sidious' lightsaber stabs deep into Rex's thigh and she lunges, but a wave of the Sith's hand and she's slamming into the wall again, and she gasps and reaches for Rex, says desperately, They're coming, Rex, you just have to stay out of the way, because Master Windu and Master Yoda are on their way in a repulsorpod and Windu looks angryand Yoda is-she's not sure, he never has emotions, but… she thinks he might be angry, too.

Rex is back firing again, and Ahsoka manages to struggle to her feet, shaking the cobwebs from her brain as best she can, and there's horror thick and choking in her throat because one of the bolts deflects into his shin and he's staggering and Sidious is moving and-

And-

 **NO!**

She screams, loss and pain and rage and terror all coalescing into a roaring inferno in her blood, as Sidious' lightsaber buries itself deep within Rex's stomach, and there's pain, the world going white, and he falls and she's still screaming and she feels Anakin trying to move but he can't and he's swearing and she still can't-she can't-

And Sidious looks up at her and smiles.

"What a waste," he says, condescension dripping from every syllable, and anger surges through her, tinging her vision red, and everything crystallizes in her mind, purpose and clarity freezing around the anger, and she straightens, ignites her 'sabers again.

The Force flows through her like a second skin, and she draws on its power, counters the Force-push Sidious sends her way, and jumps, lands on the edge of the pod, laser-focused and intent upon her goal (Tup is moaning in pain on the floor and Brii is cradling his vod's head in his lap, hands shaking and tears streaming down his face and none of it matters), and she smiles wolfishly and says, her voice a low snarl, "You shouldn't have done that."

And she pours power into her strikes, speeds her movement to a blur, remembers Kadavo and the mines and Agruss and Umbara and Krell and Kamino and every time his machinations have hurt her men, and she feels more than sees Master Windu and Master Yoda finally getting here but she doesn't let that distract her, and she feints to one side, then the other, cuts down at his knees, and Sidious stabs at her shoulder because she's left it open and she doesn't even try to block-she rams herself forward, onto his crimson lightsaber, and it hurts but she just lets the pain fuel her determination and she jerks both her silver blades up and slices his arms off at the shoulder, a Force-pull yanking the 'saber out of her shoulder, and then she jumps, flips over his head, scissors her blades in an x through the air (there's the slightest resistance when the edges meet his neck), and she lands hard and goes down to one knee, arms still extended in the follow-through, and for a moment she doesn't even breathe and then someone's saying, "You can put your 'sabers away now, Ahsoka, it's over," (she thinks it's Master Windu) and she lets out an awful sob and her hands are shaking and she thinks she gets her 'sabers back to her belt and then she's collapsing on her knees by Rex, reaching desperately for his mind, because he has to be here, he has to survive, she can't let him go like this, not now that they've finally started administering a gene-fix and he's not aging double anymore and-

Rex, please, cyare, come back, mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, you promised, and she finds the well of power in her even as it fights, tells her she's done too much, she needs to stop, and she forcefully directs it at his injury even as her hands tremble and her head explodes in agony and she can't lose him!

...

Brii's knee isn't moving right when he drags himself over to his ori'vod and feels frantically for a pulse, clumsily, without quite knowing what he's doing. He can't have lost another one, please, there's so much already aching and jagged and he can't believe any of it, really.

He finds a pulse but it's so weak that for a moment he thinks there isn't one and he's been crying since the Chancellor stabbed Fives (and he can't forget his vod's look of shock and pain and help me before he'd fallen) but now he's sobbing and Tup lets out a soft groan but at least he's alive .

He thinks he should care about Ahsoka fighting the Chancellor, should care when she sweeps her sabers and shears his head off and it tumbles to the floor like so much garbage, should care that General Windu and Master Yoda are in the pod with them, but he can't because Fives and Dogma and Rex are all dead and Tup isn't moving or answering him and Brii wants this all to end, wants to wake up back in the barracks and find it's been a terrible dream.

"Tup, ori'vod, it's gonna be okay," he murmurs, pulls Tup's head into his lap and grabs his hand, finds his own hands are shaking and his leg hurtswhere Rex had shot him and he knows it was to save his life but what if Brii could have saved him ?

General Windu crouches down next to him and Tup and Brii almost wants to push him away when he sets a hand on Tup's shoulder. "He's going to be okay, soldier," the General says firmly. "He just needs a medic."

Brii clings to those words, glances over at his Captain; Commander Tano has his head in her lap and her arms around his shoulders and she's sobbing and he hates this. Master Yoda is standing with them, his hand outstretched over Rex's face, and Brii swallows. "What about the Captain?"

"I don't know."

Tuck comes over, then, looks shaken and lost but he checks Tup's pulse too, peels back his eyelid to look at his pupils. "I can take care of him, Brii. Do you want to help me?"

And Brii swallows and nods and meets Tuck's eyes because of course he wants to help, Tup needs him.

"Good." Tuck smiles at him and it's not a real smile at all; it strains around his eyes and mouth and there are tears in Tuck's eyes too. "We need to get him somewhere safe where he can rest; how about you help me get another pod and we'll get him out of here?"

Brii realizes maybe Tuck is just trying to calm him down and he nods, quickly, gets to his feet and nearly buckles again.

"I'm sorry, Brii, you should sit back down, I didn't realize-"

"No, I can do this," he whispers, ignores Tuck's quick protest and General Windu's frown and steadies himself on his feet. He can do this, he can help, he just needs to get Tup out of here, away from all the dead.

...

Anakin hurts.

Between the effort of using so much Force and struggling to keep shields up as the vod'e with chips kill their Jedi and the Force screams with agony, and straight-up weariness from trying to singlehandedly best a Sith Master in combat, and the fact that his left leg is gone from the knee down, white-hot agony he remembers vaguely from the first battle of Geonosis, he's almost useless. He can't even stand.

His bond with Ahsoka is nothing but awful pain and heartbreak and terror; his bond with Obi-Wan is just silence, all-too-familiar, but there's nothing he can do about either of them. At least Master Yoda is crouching over Rex, attempting to Force-heal the captain.

Another pod comes zooming up to his, and Anakin summons up the hollow strength to lift his head and see who it is: a wide-eyed, terrified, sick Jesse, and Kix numb and exhausted and horrified clutching his ori'vod's hand. Kix climbs into Anakin's pod, Jesse behind him, crouches down, "Fives," Anakin manages to choke out, and Kix just shakes his head.

"He's gone, General. His Force-signature is-gone," and the numbness breaks for a moment, and Kix is screaming silently, his tortured soul staring out through his shattered eyes, and Anakin wants to be sick.

"Obi-Wan-"

"A Councillor is with him, getting him back to the Temple. The Duchess is with them." And that's good, that means Obi-Wan is getting the help he needs.

"Ahsoka needs-"

"Skywalker," Kix says harshly, glaring, "Ahsoka has been stabbed in the shoulder, has a burn on one arm and a bruised trachea, and is suffering aftereffects from repeated electric shocks. You are missing half your leg." He glares even more. "Priorities."

Anakin wonders if the medic even notices the healthy dose of Force-suggestion behind his words. "I'm sorry, Kix," he chokes out suddenly, "I should've made sure the chips got out sooner, I'm sorry, this is my fault-"

"General!" Kix looks exhausted and scared and so done. "Do me a favor and shut the kriff up!"

There's enough Force behind the words for even Anakin to pause for a minute, and then Kix starts poking at what's left of his leg, and he decides maybe it would be better if he just shuts up.

...

Kix can't compartmentalize as well as he needs to. He needs to be focusing on his General's horribly mangled and burned leg, on saving the leg if he can, but the Force is so insistent and he feels the lack of Fives' and Dogma's presences like a phantom pain, Rex is barely a whisper of energy, and everyone else is just pain and grief and terror against his thoughts, breaking his concentration into jagged pieces.

What little he was able to do for Obi-Wan has left him exhausted, and he knows he can't really heal Skywalker's leg, but he examines it anyway, tries to focus on digging into his med pac for bacta and gauze because he'll only be able to do a little more Force healing and it won't be enough.

He extends his hand over his General's leg, reaches for the Force, and as it answers it tells him not much more, little one , and he sends back begrudging agreement. He reaches to the deepest and worse nerve damage and starts knitting things back together, reconnecting nerves and muscles and bone, and he feels a surge of pain and Skywalker bites back a groan. He's not sure the leg is salvagable because his senses tell him there's so much damage and the small supply of bacta he has won't help much either.

He scrubs at his eyes with his free hand because they're blurring with tears and weariness, and he keeps reaching, healing things, until the Force hums and withdraws out of his reach. Enough .

His General looks concerned for him and Kix can't think why, there are more important things to worry about right now. He needs to get him out of here to the Temple med bay and bacta and Jedi healers who can do more than he can, then he can worry about Ahsoka because at least he knows he can handle her injuries with his supplies. Tuck has gotten Brii and Tup out of there, which is good, good for him, and he sees another pod coming towards them with a small squad of troopers surrounding Senator Amidala and that will help, they can take Skywalker and get him to the medics. "Sit here and don't kriffing move ," he growls, hands his General some pain meds, and gets to his feet and steadies himself a second before heading over to Ahsoka to help her (tries not to focus on his Captain or on Fives because he can't help them).

...

Ahsoka sits on the carbon-scored floor of the pod, Rex's head in her lap, her hands pressing against his cheeks, and drifts.

She floats on waves of pain, horror, fear, anger, the Force still reeling and roiling from all the deaths, and if only they'd pushed harder for the battalions to come off the front and get their chips removed then maybe this wouldn't have happened. There's a haze clouding her mind, a fog she can't think through; one fact is crystal-clear, though: if she'd just let the Dark have Sidious, none of this would've happened. It's entirely her fault.

And how could you have saved his life, he's on Coruscant and we're here - and he's the one who ordered them to recondition Rex, Fives snarls-

Fives.

His prone body is still just laying crumpled on the floor of the pod, left like so much trash, and distantly she realizes she's crying again (did she ever stop?), because his Force-signature is gone, and Dogma's too, and-

"Focus, you must, Ahsoka," Master Yoda says, drawing her attention back to where the diminutive green Master is crouching over Rex's injuries, attempting to heal him enough that he'll survive being transported to a bacta tank. "Your mind keeps him stable."

Is he seriously asking her to be-to be emotionless right now?

Still, she has to try, at least; she can't let Rex die, even though she's terrified that's what's going to happen anyway. So she slows her breathing and tries to fall into meditation, but everything's just-fuzzy, and she's shivering, and there's a strange heaviness to the air, and her throat hurts and breathing is hard and her head aches and she thinks her shoulder is screaming at her and so is her arm but she can't bring herself to care.

(She failed them, she couldn't protect them.)

Someone lands on the pod next to her, and she flinches a little, blinks eyes blurring with exhaustion and tries to concentrate on identifying the figure-it's Kix, she thinks, and he kneels down beside her and starts to look at her shoulder. She can't keep herself from jerking away from his touch-she doesn't mean too, but she's so tired and Rex is dying and Fives is dead and Dogma is dead and she could have stopped this and she can't breathe.

"It's okay, Commander, it's just me," Kix says gently. "I need to look at your shoulder. Is that alright?"

Ahsoka shakes her head, hissing through her teeth as the world spins and pain lances through her temples. She's fine. (She doesn't deserve help.)

"Anakin is worried about you," Kix says, and she wishes he'd yell at her, not be so quiet. Someone should yell at her. "If you won't let me look at you for yourself, please do it for him?"

Kriff him. Anakin isn't at fault for any of this. So she nods a bit, just a tiny dip of her chin, and stares down at Rex and doesn't look away. Please come back, Rexter.

"Are you alright, Ahsoka?" someone's asking, and the voice is familiar but she's too tired and too heartsick to bother to figure out why.

"Mostly, Senator," Kix answers. "She's in shock, and she overextended herself-probably dealing with Force burn on top of the physical injuries. Anakin-isn't."

He's not? "What's wrong with him," she murmurs, doesn't lift her head, but Kix's hands tighten on her shoulder.

"His leg was severed at the knee," the medic says softly, "and I'm not sure if we'll be able to save any of that leg. But he'll survive."

A part of her finds it funny. "Two limbs down, two to go," she mumbles, and then she's laughing hysterically, unable to stop, until her laughter turns into jagged sobs and she's curled over herself, over Rex's head safe in her lap, and she realizes the familiar voice belongs to Padme-the Senator is crouching down, holding Ahsoka lightly, murmuring nonsense words and vague reassurances and rubbing her back. "This is all my fault,I should've let him die, I did this, I killed them," and she's shaking and sobbing and her heart is pounding in her chest and she's going to be sick.

"Do you still need her?" she thinks she hears Kix asking in an undertone, and there's an answer she can't hear over the sound of her heart in her montrals, her erratic breathing (she's hyperventilating, a part of her thinks, and she needs to slow down, but she can't), and then Kix is projecting soothing warmth at her and then there's a faint pinching in her arm, she almost doesn't even register it, and then her thoughts are clouded by heaviness and the world goes dark and still and silent and soft.

* * *

Awareness slips back slowly, softly, like a gentle caress; for a long moment, Commander Cody isn't quite sure why he's waking up or where he is, even. Wherever he is, it's oddly silent, although the way the faint sounds of conversation echo, it's a large space. Not the barracks, then. His eyes flicker open, slowly-

And then memory comes rushing back, and Cody squeezes his eyes shut again, rolling onto his hands and knees, and he barely gets his bucket off before he's retching onto the floor. Execute Order Sixty-Six and good soldiers follow orders and kill the Jedi and he raises his blaster and takes aim and fires, all in one fluid motion, and General Kenobi falls, and-and the nightmares came true, and he didn't even try to fight, he turned his blaster on his Jedi and fired and his aim was good and he almost shot General Skywalker except Fives jumped in the way and he would've killed vod'e and he can't-he can't-he can't even breathe.

"Easy there, vod."

The voice is familiar, one of his own vod'e, and Cody shakes his head, fights to get his breathing back under control, and there are tears streaming down his face because he killed his Jedi. "Get away from me," he rasps out, "Please."

He wants his General, he wants Rex, he wants Waxer and Boil, but Waxer is dead on Umbara and his General is dead by his hand and he-he-

"He's not dead, Cody," a different voice says, lighter and more familiar though he still can't place it, and Cody laughs bitterly, because that can't be.

"Don't lie to me. My aim was good and I know where I hit him." He's vaguely aware he's snapping, too harsh, but he can't quite make himself care. (Why should he care about anything? His General, his Jedi, is dead and it's entirely his fault and he didn't even try to fight it.)

"Cody-" (and that's the first voice again)

"Ne'johaa!" he snarls out, too horrified to remember the words in Basic, and his hands are trembling and he's still crying and his Jedi is dead.

"Udesii, Cody," says the second voice, and that voice doesn't belong to a vod and so his head jerks up-

He's staring at Duchess Kryze, her face grim and tearstained and a blaster wound in one leg, and she's leaning slightly on the shoulder of a vod he recognizes as Click. "Duchess," he chokes out, "I'm sorry-"

"So am I," she breathes, and she closes her eyes for a minute, a shadow passing over her face. "I wouldn't lie to you, Cody. Obi-Wan is alive, though his condition is poor. We're taking him to the Temple," and she extends a hand to him, a silent offer. Cody almost rejects her instinctively, but-there's a chance he didn't kill his Jedi after all, and he finds he's almost desperate to see Kenobi's face.

So he takes the Duchess' hand, lets her pull him to his feet, and then he grabs his bucket and follows her and Click out of the Senate chamber, and he takes a deep breath and prepares himself to step out of one nightmare and into another.

...

Click stays close to the Duchess, probably closer than he should, but he thinks if he doesn't he'd just drift off down some hallway and get lost. Commander Cody is doing the same, and his eyes are hollow, blank, his spine straight and shoulders back. Sometimes he glances over to meet Satine's eyes, but then he quickly looks away and back down.

Satine is leaning on Click's shoulder more as they walk but he barely knows how he's staying upright himself. He killed vod'e today. And he knows it isn't his fault, knows all about the chips and the trigger and what Captain Rex found on Kamino but it just doesn't matter , the fact that it wasn't his fault. It was still his hands that had pulled the trigger, still him that had almost killed Satine, his friend , still him that had shot down vod'e who got in the way of him killing the Jedi . He'd left his bucket in the Council chambers, hadn't tried to get a blaster from one of the fallen. He doesn't trust himself with them and he feels like if he were to put his helmet back on it would stifle him.

He's afraid to go to the med bay, afraid to see what he's done , and he thinks the only reason Cody isn't ducking off to hide from all this is because his Commander doesn't believe General Kenobi isn't dead. Hells, Click isn't sure he does. He remembers seeing General Kenobi fall and the orders in his head telling him he didn't have to bother about that one anymore, and Commander Cody doesn't miss - but he has to be rational, has to remember what he knows .

He doesn't want to kill his vod'e , it wasn't his fault however it feels, Kenobi and Satine are still alive, they're all… they're all going to be fine , it's over now, it… It's so hard to hang onto any of that, especially when get to the medical floor in the Temple and the halls are full of Jedi and medics and troopers rushing madly from place to place, and Click shrinks closer to Satine because he's sure someone is going to see him and recognize him as a traitor.

Satine stops someone, asks them where they've taken the victims from the Senate, and they point down a hall and tell them how far to go, but really they almost didn't need to ask because as they get close the hall is choked with troopers, uninjured or otherwise, waiting outside the med bay and a number of medics are just trying to keep them all calm. Click wants to join their number, fade into the rest of the panicked faces and huddle against the wall and not look at them. But he's supporting Satine, and he thinks if she doesn't have someone to lean on she'll collapse, especially when they see the General, and Cody is in no position to be helping, so that means Click has to. Has to wade through his staring brothers, some of them crying, some of them clearly shell-shocked, and stammer out to the medics that Satine's leg is injured and she has to see General Kenobi, and they let the three of them in (Cody flinches when he brushes against one of the medics and for a moment what little composure he has seems about to crumble).

The med bay is full of vod'e on bunks and stretchers, Jedi Generals and healers, and ordinary medics. He sees the vod who stunned him sitting next to a bunk, face creased like wet paper with grief, and General Skywalker is on a bunk too, and Commander Tano, and Captain Rex, and all of them . He doesn't see General Kenobi right away and that terrifies him, and he thinks Commander Cody can't find him either because Cody's shoulders start sagging, and his stiff posture goes defensive, drawn inward, and Click doesn't know what to do because he's the closest thing either the Duchess or Commander has to support and comfort but he has nothing to offer them, will have less than that if his Jedi is… if his Jedi is gone.

...

Satine leans gratefully on Click's shoulder as she makes her way to the medbay; inside is chaos, like after Kamino only worse. She sees Anakin on a bunk, a pair of Jedi healers bent over him; Ahsoka is unconscious on the bunk next to her Master, a bandage around one arm and the other bound tightly against her chest. Padme sits in a chair between the two bunks, looking utterly terrified, and Satine meets her friend's eyes and tries to smile but she can't, because she knows exactly how the Senator is feeling right now.

Captain Rex is on yet another bunk, with another Jedi healer over him, and the medic, Kix, is sound asleep in a hard plastoid chair, one hand still clutching his lightsaber tightly, and Jesse is pacing. Brii is sitting on the edge of another bunk and he's sobbing, clinging to the hand of the trooper in the bunk-Tup, Satine thinks. She recognizes multiple other troops, but she can't bring herself to meet their eyes, because her hands are dripping with the blood of their vod'e and she can barely breathe around the thick, choking shame and guilt clogging her throat.

And she can't see Obi-Wan.

The Jedi Master who'd taken him had promised her he was still alive, but-but what if he was wrong? She can't quite convince herself that's not true, and her hands are shaking, and-

"Duchess," a familiar voice calls, and she leans a little more into Click (tries not to, but she can't help it, her leg will barely hold her weight) and shifts to see Scratch beckoning her to a corner. "Here."

Multiple healers are clustered around the bunk, enough she can't see past them, but as she and Click and Cody approach they disperse, their robes silently swishing behind them as they move on to other patients. Obi-Wan is laying wan and pale on the bunk, a loose hospital shirt not quite hiding the shape of the bulky bandage around his ribcage and shoulders. Instinct takes over and she tries to run to him, only for her leg to give out, and she swears because that hurts and she needs to get to him and-

"Easy there," Scratch murmurs, and there's hands under her arms, helping her to her feet, and she lets the hands-Scratch's hands, she thinks-guide her to the edge of the bunk so she can sit down. "He's going to survive, Duchess, Commander," the medic says, and then he frowns, concerned. "May I look at your leg?"

It's unlike him to be so polite-she thinks perhaps the fight in the Senate chamber and the consequences and the-and suddenly she can't remember if Scratch has his chip or not, and she can't breathe and she squeezes her eyes shut, tries to reach for the familiar easy detachment, because she cannot fall apart, not right now. "Y-yes," she manages through clenched teeth. "Cody," and it's a little easier to speak now, "stay for a while, reassure yourself he's still alive."

The Commander doesn't answer, but she hears the distinctive sound of one of those awful plastoid chairs scraping across the floor, and she takes that to mean he's taken her advice and settled in.

Scratch is applying a bacta patch to the blaster wound on her leg; it hurts, and Satine hisses a little, her hands fisting in the blanket beneath her. "I know, Duchess," Scratch murmurs, gentle, "just a minute and I'll get you some pain meds. Do you want me to find you a bunk-"

She cuts him off, panic flaring at the thought of leaving. "No!" Her chest heaves, and she sucks in a deep breath, struggles to bring her voice down to an acceptable level. "No-no. Please. I'll stay with Obi."

The medic nods, and he finishes with her leg, brings her a glass of water and some pills, which she takes gratefully. And then she frowns, because it occurs to her she's seen most of Ahsoka's squad, but… "Scratch?" she asks, already curling up beneath the blanket, as close as she can get to her Jedi without pressing on his injury.

"Yes, Duchess?"

"Where are Fives and Dogma?" The only missing members, because she's pretty sure she's seen Tuck stumbling around somewhere.

Scratch's face goes so, so pale, and she can't breathe, because-because he's turning away from her, shaking his head, shoulders trembling, and no, oh no. "The Chancellor," he chokes out, and then he flees and Satine can't hold back the tears any longer, and she sobs softly into her pillow as the world shatters around her.

...

Jesse doesn't know where they've taken Fives' body, and no one is answering him about it, no one knows anything, and he can't let himself stop moving because Kix is his best friend but Fives is - had been - too and now he's, now he's, now he's-

Jesse paces.

Repetition is easier, makes sense, if he just sticks to this pattern there's something to think about, so it's from next to Kix's chair to the closest bunk and back, he counts out five long strides every time, one, two, three, four, five, and a turn back the way he came. Kix is asleep, has been almost since they got here, because he was too tired to begin with and he'd tried to work but he'd gotten too upset and it had been Jesse who grabbed Tuck, asked him to please get his vod to sleep.

Jesse can't sleep, even though he should. But he's alright pacing, he can just do this, can just count the steps (one, two, three, four, five) and not think about- not think about-

About Fives. He'll just not think about Fives.

His vod who was always ready to jump into a fight, not because he was careless but because he cared too much , creative enough to be an ARC trooper, always the first to remind his vod'e they were more than numbers, the one who'd stood by him in front of a firing squad and refused to be cowed, his-

He's not thinking about Fives .

(One, two, three, four, five, and turn.)

He didn't have to fight as much as his vod'e because he was with Kix, which is good, he doesn't have to deal with that.

(If he'd have been with his squad maybe he could have saved Fives, or taken his place, because he'd hardly had to do anything to defend Kix and he doesn't know , he just knows he wasn't there and he'd seen the saber blade pierce through Fives' back armor and hadn't been able to move because there was no point. Now he can't stay still.)

One, two, three, four, five, and do it again and again and again until the numbers are cycling in his head, just counting and steps and checking on Kix, ignoring everything else so he doesn't have to think about it, doesn't have to think about Fives dying and Dogma dying and everyone dying and how many vod'e are dead again and his General's mutilated leg (makes him feel sick) and Rex barely hanging onto life and everything shattering and-

Jesse paces so he doesn't have to think.

One, two, three, four, five, repeat, repeat, repeat.

...

Kix blinks sleep from his eyes, slow and careful, stretching a bit; he shouldn't be awake, he's not rested, but he can't quite let himself sleep when there's so much that needs doing, and-

And it's, surprisingly, not that that's woken him up this time.

Instead, it's the way the Force is twisting in anguish around his ori'vod, around Jesse, pacing back and forth on autopilot, his hands clenched, fingers digging into his palm so hard the veins on the backs of his hands are popping out. There's agony from General Skywalker's bed, although that's at least muted by a haze of morphine, and Commander Tano and Rex are still unconscious-and at least Rex's wound is much better after having multiple Jedi healers work on him, Kix can sense it. General Kenobi is-well, better, at least, but there's a choked knot of pain and guilt and shame curled up beside him and it takes Kix a moment to realize that knot is the Duchess, and the second similar knot is Cody, and-

And he can't help them all, and he's tired, and Jesse needs to sit the kriff down.

"Jesse," he says hoarsely, winces a little, because his throat hurts and it's dry and scraped raw, like he's been screaming. "Jesse, sit down, ori'vod."

Jesse doesn't stop moving, just shakes his head. "I'm fine. Go back to sleep, Kix."

He would like to, even though he really would like to be out there helping the medics and the Jedi with his vod'e and his Jedi and (and he wonders what's happening to the Jedi out in the field, the ones with battalions still half- or more full of chips, if any of them survived, and he thinks of the young padawan screaming for his Master and wonders if he survived) he just doesn't want to sit here when there are people who need help but the Force reminds him, gently, no more, little one, and he huffs out a sigh but listens because he's learned his lesson. Still, he can at least try to do this, to help his brother, so he sits up a bit more (frowns down at the blanket he doesn't remember getting for himself), leans forward. "You're not fine."

He thinks he knows why.

Jesse won't look at him, and Kix grits his teeth and lets himself give voice to the hot, clenching shame in his gut. "If we'd been there, maybe we could've saved them," he says softly, and Jesse's head jerks around to stare at him. "I-Kenobi always says I'm good with my lightsaber. Maybe if I'd gone, that would've been enough." And then he sighs. "Or maybe more of us would've gotten killed, I don't know, vod, no one does."

"I don't want to think about it," Jesse says, almost sharply, and Kix sighs again, yawns.

"I know." He does, that's the thing. He doesn't want to think about it either, because thinking about it means that it's real, means that maybe Fives' death and Dogma's death are partially his fault, and he's a kriffing Force-sensitive, he should've seen Dogma falling and caught him, but he didn't and Dogma fell and Dogma died and Kix could've stopped it.

Jesse lets out a slow breath. "I'm afraid I'll dream," he admits quietly, finally, and Kix nods because understands that, too.

"Tuck," he calls, gestures at the medic with one hand, and Tuck nods, comes over to them with a syringe.

"I can give you a sedative, vod," Tuck offers, and Jesse hesitates for a long moment before he finally nods.

"Fine."

Kix swallows, watches as Tuck escorts his ori'vod to an empty bunk (there are so few of those) and lays him down, gives him the sedative, comes back over and gives Kix a look. "You need to be sleeping too, Kix."

"I know," he mumbles, drops his gaze to the lightsaber on his belt. (He could've saved them.) "Can-can I have one of those too?"

Tuck doesn't say a word, just walks over and injects him with the sedative, and then he breathes, "Sleep well, vod."

And Kix does.

...

Satine is asleep and the technician, Click, is just standing there looking at the floor, and Cody can't seem to let himself bend, let himself do anything but sit in tense silence and stare at his General, at the weak rise and fall of his chest that says he's alive . He doesn't want to be here. Duchess Satine had cried herself to sleep and that's his fault, he killed - no, not killed, he's breathing and alive - Obi-Wan and now she's afraid.

And he shot Fives and what if he'd slowed him down, what if the kid would've been alright if Cody hadn't shot him? A slow soldier is a dead soldier.

He folds his hands together, stares down at his hands and the way his fingertips make indents in the skin on the back of his hands, and tries to ignore the tiny voice that tells him there's blood on his hands, because there isn't , and his vod'e had stunned him before he could do any more damage.

He should be grateful this is all he's done.

Scratch comes back after a while, seems shaky, but he offers Cody and Click water and Cody takes it automatically, curls his fingers around the glass and raises it smoothly to his lips, makes himself swallow some to get the sick taste out of his mouth. Doesn't tighten his hand too much because that will shatter the glass. Sets it down on the floor next to his chair and leans forward again, feels ice freezing his spine straight and tense.

"Do you need pain meds, Commander?" Scratch asks gently, and Cody shakes his head. He has a headache but that's all, and there's enough of a mess here that he can't take medicine his vod'e may need. "Are you sure?"

"Very." Cody modulates his tone, keeps it steady, firm. "Thank you, Scratch."

"Sir…" Scratch seems about to ask him more questions, like he wants to help, and Cody thinks Scratch can't be trying to support him so he raises a hand, shakes his head.

"Enough. I'm fine ."

"He'll be alright, sir," Scratch tells him, and Cody clenches his jaw and makes himself nod like he believes it, like it makes this any better. "They both will. We're doing the best we can."

"Both?" Cody asks, allowing himself a small frown of confusion, a little more movement, enough to twist in his chair and meet Scratch's gaze. The medic stares at him for a second, then swears softly and visibly shudders , twisting his hands together.

"Sir, Captain Rex… he's not doing well either, I thought you… He was fighting the Chancellor and he got hit, bad."

Cody lurches to his feet without thinking, feels the ice cracking and failing him, and he recovers himself with an effort, shifts his shoulders back and his chin up and holds onto his composure with a durasteel grip. "I didn't know ," he says, growls it a little, and Scratch points, touches his shoulder.

"It's okay, Click and I have the General."

Cody nods, short and taut, and sees Rex, sees him lying on a bunk by himself except for the medics, and he strides fast around rows of bunks, drags down the desire to shove the medics out of his way, and comes to a halt by the side of Rex's bunk, plants his feet wide apart, curls his traitorous, shaking hands into fists. His ori'vod has never looked so small and pale, and after several long heartbeats, Cody lets himself reach out with one hand, rest his palm on Rex's shoulder, stares at the swathes of bandages over his vod's bare torso. He's not doing well either , Scratch had said, but he'd also said they'll be alright , so Cody tries to hang onto that and the ice in his bones and what little control he has. It's too personal for the medics to hear, but he whispers anyway, jaw tight and throat aching. "Please, ori'vod , don't go."

But Rex isn't answering, and his Jedi isn't either, and Cody is alone.

...

Ahsoka snaps awake with the horrified sense that something is wrong pounding in her ears and an inexplicable panic roaring through her veins, every muscle locked tight and prepared to flee, and she doesn't know where she is but it's too bright and loud and there's people moving around and the Force feels awful and thick and so so heavy and Rex is-Rex is-

Rex is gone, he's not here, he's supposed to be here next to her but she's alone and it's all she can do to keep herself from screaming, because she remembers-she remembers a lurid red lightsaber and screams and the sound of the universe shattering around her and Dogma falls and she's too slow and she reaches but she can't find him and she's shaking, because what if they didn't get him here in time, what if he's dead and she's-alone, and she can't- Rex! she screams, but he's not answering and she can't feel him and there's something awful and sick and chokingin her gut.

Her eyes can't focus, and all she can see is white, vague shadows moving around, and she tries to move, to speak, but her throat is raw and she can't breathe and everything hurts and her shoulder is agony and she can't feel Rex and-and she jerks herself upright, scrabbling for the edge of the bunk, she doesn't know where she is but she knows she needs to find Rex, find him, he's got to be here somewhere, he has to be. Has to.

"Commander!" There's hands on her shoulders, pushing her back down, and she fights them instinctively, closes her eyes against the wave of pain that breaks through the haze of painkillers. "Commander, I need you to calm down-Kix!"

She doesn't know who it is that's touching her, but they need to get off! She reaches, shoves them away with a wave of Force, and then hisses in a sharp breath, both her hands going to her head as it explodes in agony, and ow kriff that was a bad idea-

"Commander, Ahsoka," and she knows that voice, that's Kix, he's safe, he'll know where Rex is, he'll help her, and she settles the instant she feels him projecting soothing warmth at her. "Easy there. You need to stay still, Ahsoka, you've been injured."

"Rex," she tries, and her voice breaks and cracks and it burns and there are tears in her eyes and she can't keep them back. "Please…" She wants him.

"I know, Commander," Kix says. "He's right here-"

"Can't feel him," and she doesn't want to talk because kriffing hells it hurts but she needs Rex and she's so scared and she doesn't know-she thinks she must be in the medbay, if Kix is here, but she doesn't know how she got here and, and, and he was almost dead and she's shaking.

"Ahsoka, if you relax," and Kix emphasizes the last word hard, and she instinctively obeys, "I can bring you to him, let you stay with him."

"Please!" She's crying.

"Alright, this might hurt a little. I'm sorry," and she doesn't care, she just needs Rex. Kix wraps her in her blanket and lifts her bodily into his arms, and he's right, it hurts, and she whimpers but that's okay, that's alright, because she's going to get to see Rex.

"What the kriff, Kix," a medic says, "Where are you taking her?"

They-they aren't going to let her see him and she-she can't-no, no, please, she wants Rex! Kix can't let them put her back. He can't.

"Get the kriff out of my way," Kix snarls, and she doesn't think she's ever heard his voice so low and deadly before.

The medics move.

And then Kix is setting her down, oh-so-gently, tucking her under a pair of blankets, and she can finally breathe again, because Rex is right here and his mind is still so far away but she can touch him, can reassure herself he's alive, still breathing, and she curls tightly around him, ignores the way the medics are snapping and shouting, squeezes her eyes shut again and presses her face into the back of his neck, against his skin. He's so far away but she pushes strength and love and her desperate need for him to wake up at him, begging him to come back, because she's alone and all she can feel from Anakin is pain and despair and Fives is dead and Dogma is dead and Tup she doesn't know, Brii is-and Obi-Wan is injured and Satine is scared and she-she-she doesn't know, she needs him, needs her Captain back. Please come back, please, wake up, Rexter, please please **please,** I need you, and a distant part of her remembers that this is all her fault but she's too scared and sick to listen right now.

...

Pain comes and goes in waves, ebbing to nothing with his awareness, numb and silent and slipping, then surging hot and fast through him and dragging him back towards the surface, towards wakefulness. When the pain comes he knows he doesn't want to wake up so he reaches for the deep, numb cold until it goes away.

Something tells him he shouldn't do that, but the pain is too fierce and he doesn't want it.

When the pain surges again, it comes with a trapped feeling, with fear and someone's voice telling him he has to wake up (he can't that will hurt he can't do that) and a flood of strength that helps the pain not be as bad. Still, he reaches for numbness again because he can't wake up, waking up will be pain and… and something else bad, he thinks.

The voice won't let him sink. Come back please please please I need you and he wants them to stop. The heat and awareness of pain stay and he doesn't want them he wants to be numb where he can't feel it and doesn't have to think about it, please.

But they won't stop reaching for him and saying they need him and he can't pull free and go back to the silence, and awareness burns but he can't fight it, begins to remember that if she needs him he shouldn't fight it.

Surfacing is fire and agony and grief and that's why it had hurt so much and he locks his eyes closed, clings to what little numbness he can have. There's someone too close to him and he wants them off, wants to curl back into nothing and sleep and not be here.

But there's a mind pressing against his too and she's familiar and desperate and crying and he reaches for her, weakly. Ahsoka?

Oh, Force, Rex, you're here, you- She's babbling in his head and his instinct is to pull away but he doesn't. He's too tired.

He's supposed to remember something, he- he thinks there were people he needed to- his vod'e , his squad, they were… he doesn't know. Everything's still so white and fuzzy and hazy and he wants to go back to sleep. But he remembers, his squad, he needs-

Where are they?

She feels questioning, worried, presses tightly up against his mind and the grief pulses warm and he's forgetting- he doesn't know what's happened. My squad, where are they?

Here, she says, but there's hesitation, and he isn't sure if it's his mind or hers that echoes with names, with Fives and Dogma and he doesn't know why but he tries to find answers.

Where's Fives? He's… I don't **know** , where is he? Where are they, Ahsoka, Fives and Dogma, where's my squad?

He misses her response, if there is one, because pain surges and he whimpers, wants to go back to sleep and be alone and not have it hurt so much. And why is there so much grief, he doesn't remember, he doesn't-

No, he thinks because Palpatine's red lightsaber drives so easily into Fives' chestplate, makes him gasp open-mouthed and silent, because Dogma slams against the side of the pod and over it, falls and hits the ground alone. No, no, no, did you bring them back? Are they here? They have to fix them, they're **dying** I don't, I don't, **Ahsoka** did they bring them back? Where are they? Soka, where are they?

I'm sorry, Rex, I don't know, she thinks, and dimly registers panic and loss and fear but he can't stop asking, because they're his men, please, he has to make sure they're alright and it all hurts and she's too close and he's stuck here, he doesn't even know where here is , and somebody's trying to project calm - it's Ahsoka, he's with Ahsoka - but he just wants to know where they are, if anyone saved them because they could have, he's sure, there's always- where are they, Soka, please and it all hurts and he reaches back toward the numbness and sleep because he can't do this, can't be awake because he thinks he knows .

Even as he pleads for her to tell him they saved them, please, he knows and that's the worst thing, but he won't face it, he can't, so please please Ahsoka where are they .

...

I don't **know,** Rex, but she does and it's all her fault and she got them killed and-

"Commander," Kix is saying, "Rex needs to stay asleep so the healers can work." But she doesn't care right now, she needs to feel him, and even if that means telling him how it's her fault Fives and Dogma are-dead-then she will. (All of this is her fault, so much death on her shoulders, and she feels herself beginning to be crushed by the weight of it.)

Rex, cyare, I don't know what they did with them, Kix sedated me, but that doesn't explain anything and he's still in so much pain so she ignores her headache and floods him with warmth and comfort, soothes away the pain and the fear. I love you, Rex, I'm so sorry, please don't die, please.

She doesn't mean for that last bit to slip out, but she's so tired and scared and she can feel how much he hurts and that scares her because it's so much, and Sidious stabbing him replays in her mind, over and over again, and she just wants to curl up with him and be warm and safe again.

But she can't be, she doesn't deserve to be. She'd gotten vod'e killed, Rex almost killed, and Obi-Wan, and-

I'm so so sorry.

...

Rex wants to retreat from all the apologies because he knows they mean something terrible and he doesn't want to do this, but her panic won't let him , he can't get away from how scared she is and she's asking him not to die and he doesn't care , he just wants to sleep again so he doesn't have to-

Let me sleep, please, he thinks, thinks he might be angry but it's too hard to think and he can't do this now.

Fives just looks so surprised, like he thought this could never happen to him, and he crumples to the floor and doesn't move and Rex trips over him and he doesn't move and he reaches for something, anything, and his fingers find his dead brother's arm and-

Dead.

Rex chokes a little on a rush of pain from his stomach and the sudden grief that drowns his thoughts and he wants to forget it, wants to pretend he can't feel this , because suddenly everything isn't vague anymore but sharp and jagged and real and he failed them, his vod'e , his squad, and he doesn't want it to be true because there was no point and they're dead and he… he can't do this, and he curls in on himself on the bunk (and it hurts, hurts so bad, and he shouldn't have ) and groans into the pillow.

I'm sorry, Rex, I'm so sorry, I tried, I'm sorry, I'm sorry and he wants her to stop apologizing because it doesn't matter.

They're still dead and he doesn't want to do this .

...

Rex… Ahsoka reaches for him, both physically and mentally, curling herself around him, wrapping one arm around his shoulders, even though that hurts. He doesn't respond, though she feels a faint impression of him wishing she'd stop apologizing, and she draws back from his mind, stung a bit, trying not to choke on her guilt.

She shouldn't have made him wake up, she shouldn't have, shouldn't have… she's doing everything wrong and she's the reason they died and-

You should go back to sleep, she manages to tell Rex, though she's terrified of his mind withdrawing again, but he needs to sleep so he can heal and he has to heal, she isn't going to lose him. She loves him too much to lose him like this. I'm so sorry, cyare, I should've done more. Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum.

...

There is some comfort in her arm around him, although it's slight because Rex feels trapped with himself and he wants to run , be moving at least. He does want to sleep, badly, but she's still scared and there's guilt too, and he can't ignore it enough to sleep but he at least has enough control that doesn't ask her to back off like he wants to.

It just… it hurts and he doesn't feel able to face her, or anyone, and he's so tired of losing people.

With an effort at gentleness, he pulls back from her mind enough that her emotions are just background noise, lets himself sink desperately into a corner of his mind, away from the pain and loss so he can just sleep, please, everything hurts too much when he's awake.

He thinks he's forgetting something, should tell Ahsoka something, but nothing comes to him and he should stay awake until he remembers but he won't . He does, however, curl his fingers around Ahsoka's wrist and hang on as he slips back into the numb waves of unconsciousness.

...

Rex closes his mind off from her and drifts back into sleep, doesn't say a word, doesn't return the I love you, doesn't say anything, and Ahsoka chokes on her guilt, presses her face harder into the back of his neck, tries not to cry.

He's in so much pain and it's all because of her, it's her fault, and he's going to hate her, and he'll leave and he might even ask her to break the bond and she'll be alone in her head again-

But he's clinging to her wrist like she's an anchor in a storm, and surely that must mean something, mean maybe he's not going to chase her away even though it's her fault his vod'e are dead, his squad is missing two members, maybe three-she's not sure how Tup is doing.

All she knows is her Master is missing another limb and Obi-Wan is almost dead and the Force was screaming and it's all because of her.

...

The air in the med bay is stifling with grief and guilt - Kix can't feel much else, except the occasional stab of pain like a bolt of lightning. After he'd woken up, he'd felt much stronger, although when he tried reaching for the Force again it still sent him an impression like a shake of the head, a quiet not yet. That frustrates him, but he's steady enough now to help with almost everything else; Scratch is falling to pieces and Tuck's doing a little better, but not much.

Kix keeps half an eye on Rex and Ahsoka after taking her over to his bunk, and he'd thought it would help them both but now he's worried he was wrong , which scares him more than he'd care to admit. At least the Commander isn't panicking so much, but she's shaking and clinging to Rex as hard as she can. He thinks Rex has gone back to sleep, he hopes anyway, and he finishes applying bacta to a vod's wounded leg and unravels a length of bandage.

Commander Tano doesn't feel stable at all, and she needs sleep too, and when Kix starts paying too much attention to the Force around her he starts falling into her guilt, his own rising to mirror hers, and at least she isn't panicked but she's drowning in shame and he glances at her again, sees she's started to cry. He shields himself a little more from all the emotions in the air and the hurt, and works as efficiently as he can on the bandage and ties it off. (He can still feel ripples of pain from both Rex and Commander Tano.) After giving his vod some pain meds and water, he makes his way over to Rex's bunk and, with a careful projection toward Ahsoka, just a general feeling of there's someone here , sets his hand on her elbow. She still flinches, head snapping around - when she meets his eyes, she almost immediately presses her face back into Rex's neck.

"Commander," he says gently, reaching for a plastoid chair and setting it by the bunk so he can sit down (and it's such a relief not to be on his feet). "Commander, this isn't your fault." He thinks there might not be a person in this med bay that doesn't feel somehow at fault for everything that's happened, the guilt in the air is just that heavy.

Hells, he knows he's contributing to it, because he should have been able to help somehow but he had to save General Kenobi and Kenobi still might not be alright and although Rex is doing a little better and his experience says he'll probably pull through, part of him just doesn't know . He leaves his hand on Ahsoka's elbow, tries to project calm in her direction, although he doesn't know how that works, really.

...

Not her fault? Ahsoka almost laughs, but she knows if she does her laughter will just turn into awful sobs again, and so instead she presses herself closer to Rex. "This is all my fault," she rasps, her voice muffled by Rex's neck.

"Commander, everyone in this kriffing room thinks that-"

She cuts him off, sharp as she can with the pain in her throat. "Remember-the Force vision on Kamino?" She gives him a moment to recall the event she's talking about, and then she swallows, winces, continues. "I could've let the Dark Side destroy him," and she tastes blood in the back of her throat; whether real or imaginary she can't say. "But I didn't, I let him live, Kix, he'd be dead now if it wasn't for me."

She's not entirely sure how Kix will react to that news, so she keeps her face hidden against Rex, taking short, shallow, panting breaths and trying not to completely break down. But Kix just stays silent, and so she finally dares to dart a glance at him, nervous.

He looks deep in thought, frowning a little, and when he catches her eyes he shrugs a bit, rueful. "Doesn't everyone deserve a second chance?"

And kriff, but she can't quite stifle a small sob at that. "But they're dead," she bursts out, raw and wrenching, and then the worst truth of all slips out before she can bite it back: "He didn't say it back."

"Who didn't say what back?" Kix asks, and she closes her eyes, hides her head against Rex again, where it's safe.

"Rex," she mumbles, and kriff it hurts to speak, and she's not sure if that's from screaming or being choked or from the knifing pain of the words she's about to say. "He didn't say I love you back." He never forgets, so he couldn't have forgotten.

He must blame her, that's the only explanation, and she deserves it, she does, deserves his silence and his cold anger and his disdain, but… but she's fought so hard to be able to keep him, she'd never imagined she wouldn't lose him, but that he'd leave. Not since she'd understood that the accelerated aging was behind his reluctance to make promises.

...

The only one who could really ease Ahsoka's mind would be Rex, Kix thinks somewhat miserably - but he does know that Rex can't hate Ahsoka any more than he himself can. Even if he's not sure what to think about her sparing the Chancellor's life (but Rex hadn't been able to kill Krell either even though he knew he had to, and Kix thinks sometimes there are just things they can't do ).

"I don't think that means…" Kix wants to swear, doesn't. He's like most of his vod'e , the closest thing he's had to anything like what Rex and Ahsoka have is a few casual nights. He doesn't know how to help . "That doesn't mean he doesn't love you , Commander. I'm sure he didn't mean to not say it back."

She twists to look at him again and it takes an effort not to scold her because she has to stop moving her shoulder so much - he's a little afraid she'll have lost some range of motion permanently, although the Jedi healers promised they'd look at it. "He always answers," she says bitterly, and she looks so small.

Kix doesn't know how to answer that, he doesn't know anything about this. "He won't blame you, you know," he says helplessly. "I don't."

...

Ahsoka can't look at him.

"You should," she murmurs, closes her eyes, rests her head against Rex again. Because he should, that's the thing; they all should. (The guilt feels like it's crushing her, hovering over her head like an invisible weight pressing down on her, shoulders bowing beneath it.) "Did you feel it, Kix?"

She can tell by his tone that the medic is frowning. "Feel what?"

"The Jedi dying," and she's barely whispering, the words scratching over her raw, aching throat. (The Force screams and there's so much pain and she's drowning under a wave of horror and terror and agony.)

Kix doesn't speak.

She looks up, finally, just a little; his eyes are closed, his face taut and pale and strained, and his hands clenched into fists around the arms of the chair-his whole body locking up, tight with remembered pain.

(She knows that means yes.)

"It's my fault," and she's barely breathing the words out, and there are tears in her eyes again, and she doesn't even try to stop them this time. "I killed them, Kix, as good as did it myself. So you should blame me." A pause, a breath, in and out. "And-Rex is-right not to say it." I don't deserve it, she doesn't say aloud. She can't. That's her precious secret, and she clutches it close to her chest, lets it burn in her heart.

She doesn't deserve Rex in any sense of the word.

...

All those deaths, all the weight of the screams and the agony and the loss, and she takes it on herself . Kix can't even really imagine how much worse that would be, how- He can't let her think that but he doesn't know what to say about it, about the implication that Rex shouldn't love her .

How can she possibly say she killed them , how can she possibly think that and not be shattering - and he thinks of her panicking and looks at her curled desperately around Rex and remembers after Kadavo and suddenly his throat aches and he can't swallow and he closes his eyes briefly. It's too much .

He should say something , he has to, but he opens his mouth and nothing comes out; he's not like Fives, he can't just say the right thing , it's hard for him, and he doesn't know how to help. (All her wounds have been bandaged and treated as much as they can be right now so he can't do that for her, even.) "That's not true ," he manages, but in a way it is her fault and that doesn't mean he… He doesn't know , it's just that she can't be thinking like that because he knows none of them will hate her for it and it's done and it almost doesn't matter . Except it does to her.

...

Padme is sitting on the edge of Anakin's bunk, lightly running her hand through his hair, when Ahsoka wakes up in a panic; Tuck hurries over to her bunk, tries to calm her down, and gets thrown to the floor for his troubles. Padme winces appreciatively: she's been on the receiving end of such a Force-push before, when she'd tried to wake Anakin up from a nightmare, before they'd formed their bond.

It hurts.

She keeps an eye on the young Togruta as Kix carries her over to Rex and lays her down. Her sharp politician's senses can tell something's not right with the young woman, but she's not entirely sure what, at least not until she starts talking, haltingly, obviously still in physical pain, to Kix. The poor medic is lightyears out of his depth; so is Padme, if she's being honest, but at least she's had some experience talking Ani through moods like this one. So she sends Anakin a wave of reassurance, letting him know where she's going (if he starts panicking, it won't be good), and then she stands and makes her way over to the bunk.

Kix doesn't have the experience to recognize the almost-doubletalk Ahsoka is using, but Padme has been reading between the lines since she was eight years old, and she knows the unspoken phrase hiding in the halting sentences. So she pulls up a chair of her own, even though the hard, molded plastoid is uncomfortable, and sits carefully down, and she decides to speak as plainly as possible. Ahsoka doesn't need politically correct,she needs reassurance, she needs comfort. "It's not about what we deserve, Ahsoka," she says quietly, sees the way Kix's head shoots up to stare at her, how Ahsoka flinches and drops her eyes. "It's about what we choose to believe in, and Rex believes in you." She reaches out, catches Ahsoka's chin and forces the girl to look at her. "Besides, saying you don't deserve his love, and so he shouldn't love you-that's taking his free will away from him, that's giving him an order," and Ahsoka looks sick with realization and Padme breathes out a soft sigh of relief that those words had been right.

"But-I should've killed him-"

And Padme shakes her head, hard, because this is such a misconception, how could she even consider that she should've just killed him in cold blood? "Ahsoka, forgiveness and compassion are essential to the Jedi. Allowing someone to die when you have the power to save them is irresponsible and directly against the Jedi Code, isn't it?" She doesn't know exactly what happened, but she knows enough to understand where the guilt is coming from.

Ahsoka jerks her head out of Padme's grasp, hides her face again. "I'm not a Jedi."

"No," Padme agrees, and she casts a covert glance at the Jedi healers very studiously pretending to not listen. "But I think you're what the Jedi should be."

...

Kix is nothing but relieved when Senator Amidala comes over and sits down and sets about comforting Ahsoka, saying all the things he hadn't had any idea how, and he leans back and tries not to feel like he's intruding. It's too easy to get lost in his thoughts and memories, in just how many of his vod'e had turned on them, eyes empty, on the feeling of troopers and Jedi everywhere dying , on not being able to look away as the Chancellor hurt his Jedi and then turned on his vod'e and the horrible crushing ache of thinking they were all dead, Tup and Rex and Fives and Jesse. He feels so helpless in the face of all this, even when he should be in his element, should have even more resources at his disposal than he ever used to.

"I'm not a Jedi," Ahsoka says, and Kix snaps out of his spiralling thoughts because he finds himself, oddly, wanting to laugh . He shouldn't, he knows it's important that Ahsoka left the Jedi Order, but she's still their Jedi as much as Skywalker is.

"No, but I think you're what the Jedi should be," Senator Amidala says, earnest, simple, and Kix nods a little because that's true, he thinks - he has nothing against General Windu or General Unduli or Master Yoda, but they've always seemed distant and aloof, but Ahsoka and Skywalker and even Kenobi have always been just people .

"You aren't technically a Commander anymore either," Kix says, twisting his hands together. "But you don't see us caring."

You know, vod, who gives a damn?

That isn't really the right sentiment for now, but it's the same thing, in a way. "So you aren't a Jedi, sir," he says. "You might as well be, the Code and the… the compassion and stuff, that's still you. And we still trust you, whether you want us to or not."

She looks at him and he shrugs a little, forces a raw, half-hearted smile. He knows he's said this before, but it still matters , so he'll say it until someone kriffing listens to him. He can't tell if it helps her, there's too much grief anyway and too much pain, but he doesn't think he can expect better right now. He should get up and change his gloves and get back to work (he has to look at Skywalker's leg again; he's fairly sure now that they can't save it), and Ahsoka has Rex, at least. So he pushes back his chair, stands, nods gratefully at Senator Amidala.

"Commander, just call for me if you need anything, okay?" he says, and he's not sure she will, but she does at least nod agreement. That will have to suffice; he turns and leaves the three of them to themselves, his mind already falling into patterns of the equipment and meds and supplies he needs to help his General.

...

Brii startles awake and for a moment he isn't sure where he is, just that the lights are really kriffing bright so this is definitely not the barracks-and then he remembers the Senate, the Chancellor, the Duchess, his vod'e, his Generals- Tup- "Tup!" he half-yelps, pushing himself to a vaguely-upright position and shoving his red-tipped hair out of his eyes.

"Shh, ori'vod," a voice mumbles faintly, "you're loud."

It's Tup.

His eyes are squeezed tightly closed and his face is lined with pain, but he's awake, he's talking, that means he's not dead, and in that moment Brii doesn't care who's watching. He scrambles to a better position, ignores how his knee aches, and flings his arms around his ori'vod, and kriff it but he's crying again and Fives is going to tease him about this-

And then Brii remembers that Fives won't be teasing anyone ever again, won't be making any more bets on the Captain and the Commander, won't-

Fives is dead.

Brii knows he's sobbing, now, and it's not happy anymore, but he doesn't care. He doesn't care, because Fives is dead and Dogma is dead and Captain Rex is-he's not completely dead, but he's close, and General Kenobi is, and General Skywalker is not good, and the Commander, and, and, and Tup, and there's so many dead brothers and he's choking on his sobs and he can't breathe but he needs to get under control or Tuck is gonna give him a sedative again because he needs to be quiet so the medics can work, but-

"Don't be dead, Tup," he says hastily, too fast, not caring, and he's shaking and hiccuping and he can't quite get the tears under control but he has to. "Please don't be dead."

"If this is death, I'm disappointed," Tup says, and his voice is still too quiet, too faint, too weak, but he's talking. He's talking and he's not dead and that means Brii at least saved someone, that means the whole squad isn't gone. "Hey, s'okay, Brii."

Brii sniffles, says, "No, it's not."

"You're right, vod."

But it is anyway, and he can't do anything to make it not be, he can't change the past, Tup tells him that all the time, and he wants to break but he knows he can't, he has to be strong for his ori'vod, for Tup.

...

Tup hurts . Every muscle in his body is sore and his head is killing him and his heartbeat feels fast and uneven. Really though, he's lucky that's all that's wrong with him.

He closes his eyes tight against the painful glare of the medbay lights and frees one arm to pat Brii on the back, even though it hurts and it hurt that Brii's hugging him. "Hey, vod , what about… the rest of our squad? The battalions?"

"Commander Tano killed the Chancellor," Brii says, his voice thick with tears.

"Good." Because his vod'e are dead because of him, Dogma and Fives are dead because of him. Dead . Tup tightens his one arm around Brii because that helps, a little, but the hard thing is he hadn't been able to do anything - not against a Sith Lord, and he'd been trapped watching , and there's nothing that can fix that.

"But he stabbed Captain Rex and he might be dying, and I think General Skywalker is going to lose a leg and we couldn't save Fives or Dogma, Tup."

"Okay, it's okay," Tup says gently, beginning to make soothing circles with his hand over Brii's shoulder, although his muscles still don't want to move . The kid is still very new to this and even Tup hasn't seen anything like this, not since Umbara - and in some ways Umbara was worse because they'd killed their own brothers, and then Krell had destroyed dozens of them without blinking.

Brii can't slow his breathing down, it seems, and it's starting to hurt too much, hugging him, so Tup gently pushes him away until his vod sits up and some of the pain eases a little. "You saved some of them, remember," he says quietly. "You made the Duchess stop killing them. That was good, vod ."

...

Brii knows that, knows he saved some, he saved the one the Duchess called Click (and he'd seen her leaning on Click, trailed by Commander Cody, when she came into the medbay, so they must be friends?), but a part of him is screaming that it doesn't matter, because he didn't save the ones who really mattered. And he hates himself for thinking that way, because they're all vod'e, they're all his brothers, but Fives and Dogma are his squad. Were his squad.

He thinks they'll probably join the line of glassy-eyed vod'e who come for him in his dreams, the ones he killed on Kamino.

"It wasn't enough," he says instead, because that's also true and it's more acceptable than saying some of his brothers are less important than others. "I didn't save enough."

"You did what you could," Tup says gently, and Brii knows that. But it's still not enough.

"Did you see the Duchess?" he breathes out, instead. "How many do you think she killed before I stopped her?" He can't help glancing over at where the Duchess is asleep next to General Kenobi-only to see she's awake, and watching him, and looking sick and her eyes full of self-loathing.

"Brii," Tup says firmly, catching his attention, and he's serious and grave, "the Duchess is a pacifist who abhors killing."

Brii blinks. "But she-"

"She fought in the last Mandalorian civil war, I heard," his ori'vod explains in a low voice.

Oh.

He thinks he understands why she looks so disgusted and revolted, now.

...

Tup tries to take a deep breath but it's like his chest seizes and all he can manage is a shallow struggle of a sigh. "The point is, Brii, you did what you could when she needed you and it saved your vod'e . If you'd have listened to me when I told you to get in line, this would all be worse . And I know " - he shifts a little and pain sparks like fire through his limbs and he gasps - "I know how you feel, ori'vod , and it's okay that you feel like that, but you can't stay there."

Brii frowns and looks down, and Tup closes his eyes for a moment to just breathe . He has - had - been telling Fives this for a long time but it hadn't helped , but it's what helps Tup and maybe Brii can listen. "But how do I… how do I not?"

Tup hardly knows. He twists his fingers in his blanket (and his skin is too sensitive but it feels grounding anyway) and shrugs, although even that hurts. "I don't know. I just… vod'e always die, Brii," he says, and that's a harsh perspective, but it's how life is . "It got too hard blaming myself for the slightest mistake. So I had to stop."

None of them can ever do enough, he thinks - their vod'e will always be left to rot on hostile balls of rock because there aren't enough pyres and graves for them, there will always be thousands of troopers who never come back from campaigns. Until the war is over.

So they can't blame themselves for failing their brothers because, Tup thinks, they always will.

That doesn't make it better, and it doesn't make it easier when the brothers he's failed are so close , but it's enough that he's able to bear it. Survivor's guilt is no longer a luxury Tup can afford.

...

Brii frowns, nods a little, even though he doesn't really understand; after all, how is he supposed to just- not blame himself? But Tup is tired and hurting and needs to sleep, and Brii thinks his ori'vod needs sleep more than Brii needs to not blame himself, so he decides to just… leave the conversation for now. It'll be fine.

(He doesn't think Tup believes it when Brii says he understands, but… he doesn't push, and that's good enough.)

"Do you think the war will be over soon now?" Brii finally asks, quietly, looking down at his vod.

Tup shrugs a little, just a tiny jerk of his shoulders, and Brii knows it hurts just for him to do that much. "Maybe," he says. "But what do you think will happen to us when it does?"

Brii frowns, considering that for the first time: the idea that the end of the war might not be a good thing.

Because what do you do with one-point-eight million clones manufactured for war when there's no longer a war to fight?

* * *

 **Mando'a translations:**

Ne'johaa: shut up

udesii: calm down


	3. Chapter 3

_**The extra-thick line break in the center indicates a timeskip of about a month between the previous scene and the scene following.**_

* * *

Waking up is easier, after the first time, if not much. It still burns but Rex is expecting it, is less tired, and he thinks (as he becomes somewhat aware of himself) that he's on some strong pain meds.

There are still pangs that the pain meds can't silence but that's not- He's not worrying about that yet. He doesn't move, because he can tell that pain meds or no, it would hurt , and for once there isn't an urge to get up and check on his men and try to fix everything because it would be too much , even if he could walk. Which he knows he can't, if he can't even breathe without pain.

Ahsoka is still here. He thinks he'd expected the medics to try to make her go to her own bunk, but apparently not, because her arm is thrown over his chest and he senses she's asleep, although probably not for long - the slow rhythm of her thoughts is breaking a little, and she almost reaches for him.

There are thick swatches of bandages around one of her shoulders and arms, and the arm over his chest has a bacta patch on it, and he senses a hum of pain from her, just a vague one since she's still mostly asleep. He eases into her thoughts, trying not to wake her up, because he can feel she needs the sleep. It's just easier, if he isn't by himself.

Everything feels sluggish , and he doesn't quite know why because this isn't how she normally is when she's sleeping - he tries to settle in close and close his eyes and be still , but there's something tugging at him so he follows it, a cord of fear and guilt, and he hopes it's okay to because she is asleep, but he trusts his instincts.

A series of images hits him so fast he flinches , doesn't know for a moment whether they're real or in her head or in his own, lurid red and grey and steel. He fixates on the saber, on the new-paint fresh-blood brightness of it, feels terror and horror doubling his own remembered pain - sees his own face twist in a grimace and the Chancellor's in a contemptuous smile. It's Ahsoka that's screaming though, and he thinks he's seeing through her eyes when he feels a surge of pain-denial-fear. The emotions stab sharp and fast and he thinks he can almost see them, and they're red too.

He falls and the sound is loud, echoes across Ahsoka's thoughts, and Rex flinches again, remembers (and Fives' armor is blinding white, washing out much of the blue), and there's a feeling of distance , of a cable strained past holding, durasteel tension prepared to snap. Inevitable.

When it does snap, the bond, the recoil slices sharper than shrapnel and Rex isn't sure right away whose pain it is he feels until Ahsoka starts sobbing . The images narrow to just her, and him (and he's dead, he thinks, thinks the red saber is what started the bond breaking).

(Some part of him knows he might be too far into her dream and he should pull back and regroup because he's scattered.)

There's no vagueness or white noise here, Ahsoka is nothing but aware that he's dead and guilt is sharp and shining and black, flash-flood cold over her head and he understands although the intensity of it staggers him. Loss is sharper, and Rex knows that feeling so well but here it's all-encompassing and around him, and he can't control it because it isn't his own pain. Hells, he's not sure it's even all Ahsoka's - there's a wailing behind hers that's older, less contained.

The guilt is saying that's all her fault, the grief of the Force, her own, the shattered shrapnel-pieces of the bond and Rex almost understands but he doesn't know why she feels so certain , why so much is her fault, why in her dream her hands are so vividly red, more than the saber.

...

Ahsoka stands frozen in the Senate chamber, half-poised on the balls of her feet, dizzy and hissing in pain and everything eclipsed by a desperate need to get to the other pod-but she can't, every time she tries she's just thrown away like, like garbage, like broken parts, easy and effortless and she can't fight it. Sidious stabs Rex, she watches, watches, doesn't move, doesn't even try, she's just still, so still, because it's pointless and she can't get there and the 'saber glows red, lurid as fresh blood, and the blade cuts deep into Rex's armor and draws back out, twisting, slow and malicious and dripping in blood even though she knows instinctively lightsaber wounds always cauterize.

What a waste, he says, and his voice is that smooth-as-silk gravel he's always used in front of the Senate, but there's something deeper, darker, dangerous and insidious and purring in the back of his throat and it holds her in place even as she struggles to fight, to move, to do something,because she has to get to him-

She feels it coming a half-second before the actual event.

There's a stretching feeling, faint and tense like a thin string stretched to the snapping point, and then it twangs like someone's plucked it with a particularly long fingernail, and the echo reverberates through her skull, sharp pain and horror and she clutches at it but it burns her hands and then it shatters, the bond snapping under the strain; it whiplashes back against her mind even as there's an awful ripping pain in her head, the place where the bond had been woven deep within the heart of her self torn away like an uprooted weed, leaving behind a gaping emptiness like a black hole, and she reaches on instinct but there's just agony and nothing and it pulls her in, drags her under, she can't breathe, and even as she struggles free of the void where once had been so much warmth and life the far end of the bond snaps back against her mind, gouges deep into her heart and mind both, and she's screaming somewhere but this pain doesn't leave a mark, doesn't leave a scar, except for the scar tissue on her soul.

(And the Force is still twisting and writhing as the Jedi die, the vod'e killing their Generals and Commanders, killing each other, an awful cacophony of horror and pain and rage and terror and despair melding with the metallic tang of blood on her tongue, the scent of carbon-blackened durasteel, the sound of shattering glass and screams and plastoid clattering to the floor, turning into a symphony of dust and ash and endingplaying all in minor chords through her thoughts, every erratic, stumbling beat of her heart the crash of a drum, each short, sharp inhale a cymbal.)

Her vision whites out, the only clear things a splash of lurid crimson, and she thinks it's Sidious' lightsaber but then she looks closer and realizes it's her hands, drenched in blood, and she remembers-

(He deserves death, does he not? and a soft certainty murmuring no, no, no one deserves this.)

He would be dead if she hadn't stopped it, if she hadn't stepped in, if she hadn't saved him, and so this is her fault, her burden to carry, she killed Rex and Fives and Dogma and she killed the Jedi and everything that's happened here is her, her, it's all her, and she's choking on an ocean of guilt, drowning under the waves of self-loathing and nausea, flailing blindly but unable to swim to the surface.

Sidious laughs and she screams, the world tinging red and dark and misty, and she flings herself across the distance at him, lets him impale her shoulder with his 'saber, and then she slices her silver blades through his arms at the shoulders, flips over, decapitates him, but there's no joy, there's no relief, Rex is dead and this is all her fault and she falls to her knees beside him but there's nothing, he's gone, and he promised and she can't, she can't, she can't, and she convulsively rejects this reality because it can't be true but she doesn't wake up like she would if it was a dream, and her head is burning and empty and aching and she can't, she can't feel him, he's gone, Rex is gone. Gone, gone, gone, her fault, and this is real, this is real, and she curls up around herself and hugs her knees to her chest and sobs because she killed him.

...

Ahsoka's panic is what finally makes Rex focus , what makes the too-vibrant colors of the dream seem less real to him, and he gathers himself and spreads a layer of soft, light warmth over her thoughts, tries to ease into her awareness carefully so he doesn't scare her, wraps love tight around her circling thoughts and pulls her towards wakefulness. He tries to be gentle because she's already so terrified he doesn't think waking too fast would be safe - like the sickness you get from surfacing too fast after a long swim.

It's not enough. He feels the second she actually registers the feel of his thoughts because she grabs onto him, hard , and she snaps back awake fast , just a few heavy dregs of sleep clinging on and only making it all worse .

Her eyes open, and for a second they focus on him before she suddenly yanks her arm from around his chest and rolls onto her stomach, pressing her face into the pillow not quite in time to stifle a sob. Rex shouldn't, but he twists onto his side (and kriff that pain slices hot through the painkillers) and puts his own arm around her, feels her flinch and he can feel her trying to manage the panic but it's not working and he presses in as near as he can to her thoughts, keeps his arm snug around her torso because he senses she needs it. Her sobs come out nearly silent, heaving and uneven and making her tremble, and Rex swallows and starts talking, although at first his voice doesn't obey him and little gods breathing still doesn't feel right, kriffing hurts. " Udesii, ner'jetii . Hey, it's okay. I'm right here, listen." He whispers assurances, keeps accidentally falling into Mando'a because it's easier, it's how he soothes his vod'e , and he isn't sure whether he's helping but if he's talking maybe she'll actually believe he's there. " K'uur, udesii . I'm okay."

...

Ahsoka wants nothing more than to let Rex wrap her in soothing warmth and love, to burrow into the shelter of his arms and stay there until she can breathe again (and she still doesn't understand, she's awake now but she couldn't wake up before so it couldn't have been a dream, but it was, and she doesn't understand), but the image of her hands soaked in blood is still imprinted in vivid, too-sharp color on the undersides of her eyelids, everything oversaturated in red, and she can't breathe and she knows Rex would help but she can't let him.

Because it's her fault he's-dead, not dead, she doesn't know, doesn't know, can't tell what's real and what isn't anymore-but it's her fault and so many Jedi are dead and that's her fault too, and Fives and Dogma, and she did this. She did this, she killed him, she doesn't deserve his comfort, doesn't deserve to let him hold her close like she's done nothing wrong. He shouldn't even want to hold her like this, he should hate her, she'd killed him. Killed Fives. Dogma. Master Plo, she remembers vaguely feeling him die, remembers screaming, remembers the pain of his death twisted all up in the electric shock of Sidious' lightning until one pain was indistinguishable from the other.

Rex needs to stay away. She's dangerous and guilty and her hands are dripping with the blood of his vod'e and he shouldn't-he shouldn't still love her.

Go away, get out, she tries to send, shoves at his presence in her mind, though her shields are cracked and weak and there's too much panic and guilt and sheer self-loathing seeping through, but that doesn't matter, he needs to get out before she burns him up to ash. She twists, tries to get away from his arm, but a part of her panics at that, screaming in bloody, sharp-edged terror, and he tightens his grip on her, doesn't let her go,even though he needs to, he should, he needs to get away. She squirms a little, tries to fight, but he just pins her down, shifts a little even though it must hurt so that some of his body weight is keeping her held still on the bunk.

Why won't he just let go?

...

She's trying to push him out of her head, and if Rex couldn't sense all the guilt and fear behind her shields he would let her - but he can tell she needs his closeness so he stays stubbornly pressed against her thoughts and keeps her more or less pinned to the bunk, switches from talking to a steady projection of nearness and love because talking really does hurt . She stops trying to leave, which he's grateful for because he hurts and he'd get tired, fast, if she insisted on trying to pull away from him.

Her shields are paper-thin and her emotions bleed past them easily, and it's choking him how much she's hating herself, telling herself she needs to go and he doesn't understand why because he knows she's terrified of not being able to feel him and she's still trying to make him back off and he doesn't understand.

He leans his forehead against her montrals, tightens his arm around her as much as he dares without hurting either of them, and tries to figure out what to do because she's still crying and why does she feel like she has to leave and why isn't she letting herself stay close - it doesn't make sense except for the heavy, sharp guilt and some vague impression of get away like it's a warning and he doesn't know what's happening and he can't think straight because he's in pain and he's tired.

Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum , he says, gently. Can you… He hesitates, doesn't know if he should ask now or wait, but- Can you try to talk to me, Soka? He's exhausted and he just wants to understand because he can't help and he can't even really move very well and thinking is hard, but if he at least knew what was wrong , had some concrete idea. He tries to project an impression that it's okay if she can't, and patience.

...

Ahsoka flinches, can't help it. You say that now, but you didn't before, and she's not really trying to project but her shields are all a mess and everything's all gone so wrong and she doesn't even know where she went wrong, what even happened, everything's been a blur since Anakin came storming into the barracks. You didn't say it back, but that's okay, you shouldn't, shouldn't, it's all her fault and he shouldn't love her.

She's still shaking, though her sobs are less actual tears and more just heaving breaths she can't control, but she keeps her head pressed into the pillow anyway, won't look at Rex. She can't. She can't look, can't see the betrayal and pain and hurt and hatred in his eyes when he realizes she's the reason Fives and Dogma are dead, and the Jedi, and her mind is running in circles, like that old symbol, the snake swallowing its own tail, but she can't stop it. She can't think and everything's still sluggish and heavy and she thinks she can feel the sedative still weighing her veins down, kriff Kix, he needs to stop sedating her. She just wants to feel Rex again but-

But she can't, and she has to keep reminding herself that, because it's taking all her willpower to keep from collapsing into his head and hiding in his love. She has to remember, she has to, she can't hurt him again, she can't do this, all she does is hurt him. (Umbara, all she'd done was make things worse, she hadn't protected his men, hadn't protected him, had failed them all; Kadavo she'd just been a tool to ensure his compliance, and then she'd Fallen and gone Dark and he'd had to save her, pull her out; on Kamino she'd said the words, she'd left Sidious alive and she'd triggered the chip, she'd almost made him kill her, she couldn't protect him and she'd been useless and she'd almost died and she hadn't made sure the chips were all removed; Cato Neimoidia she'd thought she was protecting him, but all she'd done was get him almost reconditioned and he'd thought he was going to lose himself and so he'd said things he didn't want to say, and all she does is hurt him and she can't do this.)

...

Ahsoka feels like she's drowning and her thoughts are running so fast out of control Rex mostly only picks up snippets, but it's enough. She thinks he shouldn't love her, she thinks it's her fault he's hurt and her fault the Jedi died and her fault Kadavo broke him and her fault her squad attacked her on Kamino and he doesn't know how he's never felt this from her before, doesn't know how to answer it. There's more grief in him today, he thinks, than anything else; grief for his vod'e and now grief that Ahsoka believes she hurts him, believes this is all her fault.

Soka, those things happened because - a tired part of him volunteers because of kriffing assholes but that doesn't seem like the most productive thing to say - because we're at war and we have enemies and they're trying their damnedest to hurt us.

But they couldn't have- she starts to protest, and he cuts her off.

You've always helped, Soka, and it isn't your fault if people twist it and try to use you, anymore than it's my men's fault that the Chancellor put chips in their brains . He knows how she feels, about Kadavo, especially, but she can't think it's her fault the Zygerrians twisted everything (and he still can't really think about that too much so he moves on). It's not up to you if I 'should' love you, by the way. He can't kriffing tell if he's getting through at all, but he thinks at least if he's talking and she's listening, it's better. He projects his love as strong as he can, a little of his desperation to make her see he doesn't blame her, never has, because maybe if he can show her enough of it, she'll see that his love hasn't ever been dependent on her saving him or making sure he wasn't hurt or anything shallow like that.

...

No. No, no, no, he doesn't understand, he doesn't see it, he's not listening, and Ahsoka has to pull back, slam up shields even though they're weak and not good, because his stupid love is washing over her, wrapping her in a blanket of warmth and certainty, and she can't let herself-she can't feel it or she won't be able to do this. Won't be able to make him go, make him see.

And he has to see.

So she shoves the memory, the one of her saving, saving, Sidious, saving the Sith Master, the one who killed them all, says, my fault, my fault, I did this, I don't deserve- and she cuts that off quickly because she didn't mean to send that. Rex, you have to just go, go before you get killed, before I get you killed for real, although a part of her almost still thinks this is the dream, the fever dream her brain and the Force concocted to save her from the pain of the shattered bond.

...

She pushes a memory at him and it's tainted with guilt and grief, but as it flashes across his vision he still finds himself stunned, a little awed at it. The vicious anger of the Dark is there, and stern rationality, and the Dark is trying to tear the Chancellor into a thousand shattered, bleeding pieces and he agrees with the anger, that would be justice, but… But Ahsoka feels like herself, like warmth and softness and fiery certainty and she thinks this isn't justice, it's too cruel even for him , and he wonders if it's part of the memory or if it's his perception that she's radiant when she steps into the hurricane that is the Dark (and now he understands the pain that called him to reach for her in the storm), and her memory echoes with strength and a desperate shout into the wind: I forgive you! And she doesn't stop, reaches into the Dark and says she knows , she loves , she forgives , and this part of the memory chokes with her guilt but Rex can still feel that wild, unchecked love and Light and it's his Soka , sure and certain and he doesn't understand how she forgives and saves but…

Force, Soka, he says, and she starts talking about getting him killed and it being her fault and he doesn't even care. He tightens his arm around her, presses a series of wondering kisses to her headtail, presses back against her guilt with the awe and disbelief and love he feels because she's somehow always been like that. She'd forgiven him after Kadavo and not stopped loving him when he thought he was a coward, and she has been so angry before but that isn't her , she's his Soka.

He clings onto his own memory of the love he felt when she saved the Chancellor and tries to project that same feeling at her, kisses her bandaged shoulder. He doesn't understand but he doesn't have to understand to know he loves her for her compassion.

You're amazing, Soka, he thinks, soft.

...

Ahsoka doesn't understand.

How can he not hate her, or at least not want to love her anymore? But-Fives and Dogma, she tries, weakly, because she's so tired and Rex being here, being close, is what she's been desperate for ever since Sidious' awful lightsaber stabbed into Rex's stomach and he fell. They're dead-you were angry at me-you didn't say it **back,** and she doesn't understand.

I wasn't angry at you, he says, and that doesn't make sense, I didn't want to be awake, to admit that they were… dead. I didn't mean to not say it back.

But-

He cuts her off with a gentle wave of warm love and compassion, and she lifts her face from the pillow, rolls to look at him, because she doesn't understand. There's so much awe in his eyes and she wants to hide from it, but she can't.

...

You know, I have been stabbed in the stomach, he says lightly, ignores the wave of pain that accompanies the reminder. You forget things sometimes when you've been impaled. I'm sorry I didn't say it, though. He shifts a little so he's not pinning her down anymore, but leaves his arm draped over her middle.

He can tell she doesn't understand, and she doesn't totally seem to believe him, so he presses his forehead to hers like he would one of his vod'eand hums a little, starts rubbing her back, hand tracing up and down her spine.

But I don't… You should be angry, Rex , she says, and he sighs a little, shakes his head.

Soka, I couldn't hate you, and you **know** that. He'd known after Kadavo, just… you also forget things when you've been broken, and he understands. I can't pretend to understand how you forgave him, but I'm… It wouldn't have been right otherwise, I think. Like it wouldn't have been right for me to kill Krell or for you to kill Agruss. And war is supposed to mean you do what's necessary, what's unpleasant, but Rex stopped thinking that way some time ago because there are some lines he cannot cross, some things they can't do.

Like Dogma disobeying the order because, as he told Rex later, he made a promise.

...

Ahsoka almost can't believe him, but she can't keep herself away from him any longer, not with the terror of losing him still fresh and bloody in her mind. So she shakes her head, thinks, I don't understand as she presses closer to him.

In response, Rex shows her the aftermath of Kadavo, the latenight confrontation where he'd realised that everything he'd done to try to keep her from hating him, to keep him from losing her, had just pushed her away. Don't make the same mistake, he hums to her, and she closes her eyes against a sob and curls up against him, dropping her shields.

The guilt is still heavy and stifling, but she lets him see it anyway, lets his love rush warm and soothing over the residual pain of the broken bond. I love you, Rex, she breathes. So much.

...

I know , he thinks. I love you too . It's easier to breathe now, a little, although the throbbing pain in his stomach says the pain meds might be wearing off and that scares him.

Guilt still permeates her thoughts, black and shining and choking, but at least she's staying now, fingers skimming along the edges of his bandages, forehead pressed against his collarbone. He focuses on her and the pattern of her emotions, mostly so he can be sure she's okay, but partly because he still doesn't want to think about his men dying. "Are the rest of them alright?" he asks quietly. The rest of his squad - has he lost anyone else? And maybe he shouldn't ask her that now but he has to know.

Ahsoka sniffs and swallows. "I think so."

Rex lets out a soft, trembling sigh, relieved, and presses his hand closer against her back so it doesn't shake so much. It's still too much loss, and he thinks it's far worse than just their battalions but for now the med bay is soft, dim light and the deep stillness of night after pain, and he needs to not think . Ahsoka needs him still.

There will be enough, and far too much, time to feel it all later, how the less of his men, his friends, his brothers gnaws sharp where it always does.

He keeps love soothing soft over the most ashamed of her thoughts, interjecting actual words if he needs to, and fights to ignore how much he's starting to hurt again. Enough that he doesn't think he'll be able to go back to sleep without more painkillers. He thinks Ahsoka notices, because her crying has subsided to unsteady breaths and a few tears still, and she sends a general questioning concern (and her guilt surges stronger and he soothes it again).

It's fine , he says. He can do without more painkillers for a while yet, and if he says he needs them she'll get up to get a medic and he thinks she needs more time before she tries to do anything. Like I said, I've been stabbed. It's going to hurt . That amuses him more than it should, it's just that precious little is okay and the Chancellor's face and his hand holding Ahsoka in the air, choking, is so hard to forget. It's easier to laugh.

...

Ahsoka hides her face against his chest, trying to be careful; she can feel a vague echo of the burning pain in his abdomen, and it makes her sickwith shame, even though Rex keeps soothing her with a steady projection of love. I'm sorry, she says, even though he hushes her gently, lightly runs his fingers down her back headtail. I should've stopped him-

You couldn't, Soka, he hums quietly, and she knows that but what if she could've tried harder, made it through his Force-pushes? Stop, and she realizes he's caught the edge of her spinning thoughts, please. You did everything you could, and he's dead.

She knows.

It doesn't make anything better.

Ahsoka shifts, twisting a little, and the arm bound to her torso catches on-something, she's not sure what, and tugs- and that's how she finds out the painkillers she's on are probably wearing off too, because there's molten-hot pain stabbing through her shoulder, almost as livid and bloody as the lightsaber blade itself, and she hisses through her teeth and struggles to stifle a faint whimper. Tell me about it, she says dryly, projecting a brief flicker of the memory of Sidious stabbing her. Ow.

He's right, in a way; it's easier to laugh about everything.

But that kriffing hurts, and she's almost surprised Kix or Tuck hasn't materialized yet to scold her and give them both more meds-she swears Kix uses the Force to tell when she or Rex is doing something (or about to do something) that's against his orders.

...

Kix had finally gotten Tuck to sleep, without a sedative, just after midnight, after most of the medics had left. General Obi-Wan and Rex and Anakin and some of the more badly injured vod'e all have small teams of medics specifically keeping an eye on them; since Kix had reprimanded the medics about Rex and Ahsoka, he finds himself shunted into the position of being the one chiefly responsible for them, with a few medics hanging around him. He thinks they don't know what to do with him and it's almost funny, how awkward they are.

It's probably because of how harsh he'd gotten, but he wasn't going to let them keep separating Rex and Ahsoka when they clearly needed each other.

He's staying attuned to the Force around them, in case they need him, although he tries not to pay too much attention because he can feel guilt and fear and all their emotions and he wants to give them some measure of privacy - although he almost marches over when he feels a flicker of pain and looks over to see kriffing Rex moving and he wants to go tell him to kriffing lie still but he refrains because Rex settles before long. (And because Ahsoka feels so guilty and hurt and Kix thinks he has to just let them talk and he can't help anyway, he'd tried and he doesn't think it had done much good.)

It isn't until he starts feeling mounting pain from Rex (and then a sharp stab from Ahsoka) that he decides he needs to get them meds and tell them to stop aggravating their injuries. He let them be together so they would do better , not hurt themselves further. He sighs, unfolds himself from his plastoid chair, and quickly fills a pair of syringes with the painkiller, fingers steady. Then he pads over to their bunk, Rex's head snapping up before Kix would have thought his Captain could have noticed him (although Rex gets hypervigilant when he's injured, which is… inconvenient).

"Hey," Kix says softly, because it's night and his patients need to stay sleeping if they can. "You both need to be more careful. And you're due for more meds." He thinks it's only years of experience (and thorough knowledge of the face he and Rex share) that lets him catch a flicker of deep relief before Rex smiles almost nonchalantly.

"Thanks, Kix," he says, and Kix sighs, reaches for his Captain's arm and twisting it so he can access a vein.

"Of course, vod ." He smiles a little at Ahsoka, who doesn't look good at all, tries to pretend he has no idea that she's been crying, even though her eyes are puffy and red and tired and there's wetness on her cheeks. "You could do without more painkillers for another hour or so, unless you need them?"

She nods and seems to hesitate, but, "I think I need some."

"Okay." Kix slides the needle into Rex's arm and presses the plunger of the syringe easy and smooth, pulls it free, sets it aside and moves around to do Ahsoka.

He senses Rex's relief as even a little of the medicine kicks in, and that's good - with luck, the two will go back to sleep soon. Kix needs them resting , more than anything. He's not so sure Ahsoka will be as calm, with or without pain meds, but he's just going to do what he can and hope . He nudges her shoulder, a silent instruction, and she shifts onto her back so he can reach for the arm that isn't bandaged to her chest and give her the shot. "There you go, Commander," he says, twists his lips in a wry smile. "Please, just stop moving so much." He lets the Force push behind his words, even though he suspects it will work on neither of them - at least it will tell them how serious he is.

...

Ahsoka raises an eyebrow at Kix, when she feels the hint of Force-suggestion in his voice; she's tired enough, her shields low enough, that it actually affects her a bit, though she's aware enough to push the influence to the side. "Rex's fault," she says, hums a bit. The morphine is already starting to make its way through her system, dulling the knife-edge pain in her shoulder and turning the guilt and sick horror to a numb haze of false tranquility, and she nestles against Rex without really thinking, though she retains enough presence of mind to avoid his injury.

Kix doesn't believe her. "Right," he says dryly, and she can hear him rolling his eyes. "Of course. Well, I don't care whose fault it is, just go to sleep."

She grumbles a bit, lets her eyes fall closed-it's suddenly too much energy to keep them open. "Stop kriffing sedating me," she mutters into Rex's chest.

Kix sighs. "Only if you promise to actually sleep," he says tiredly. "I promise Rex isn't going to die if you close your eyes."

Kriff ,she hadn't wanted Rex to know she'd fought Kix about that.

...

Rex frowns a little, because he thinks if Kix had to sedate her, that means she was too panicked to sleep. And that doesn't quite surprise him - he knows her after all, knows sleep feels dangerous sometimes - but it does make him wonder how panicked she'd been, and whether she really still thinks he's going to die.

He doesn't feel like he is, although he hurts. And breathing is hard. And he's not supposed to move. But Kix has let her be with him so it must be alright.

Still, he supposes that's easier said than felt.

"I know that," Ahsoka grumbles, a sigh ghosting across his skin. "I'm gonna sleep, Kix," she says, and Rex hears a hint of a thought, something she wants to say: go away . He smiles a little.

"Fine." Kix gives Rex a look, like he wants to say something, but nothing comes of it. "I'll be here if either of you need me," he says, and Rex shifts his focus back to Ahsoka.

I'm going to be okay, he says, and if you have another nightmare I'll wake you up again . That means no shields tonight, but there are worse things. Like her panicking again because she thinks he's dead and out of her reach. He'll just have to hope that he has no nightmares, because then she'll see them too, and that would hardly make this better. He might be too tired for dreams.

...

Okay, Ahsoka hums, presses her mind close to him and drops her shields. She's tired. (As soon as she hurts less, she's going to be annoyed at Kix for using painkillers to get her to sleep.) And Rex is warm and steady beside her, and he doesn't hate her, and he's not dead.

She likes that he's not dead.

Love you, Rexter, she thinks softly, smiles a little.

...

Love you too, Soka , he answers, swallows so he can take a deeper breath against the fading pain. He fits his arm around her shoulders again, kisses her forehead. He is too tired to think, really, too tired to do anything but wait for the pain to subside and hold Ahsoka close.

His grief is harder to ignore when there's nothing to think about but sleep. He's familiar with it - grief is an old friend, practically a brother - but tonight he feels so heavy because everyone else that has been lost, not just a few people, not even just his battalion. The 212th, the battalions stationed on Coruscant, the Jedi; in fact, from what he's seen in Ahsoka's thoughts he thinks all his brothers were affected by the order, thinks today was a day for Jedi and vod'e alike to die, and that… He doesn't know how to think about that, about so many dead at once at the word of one sick man.

But even those sorts of thoughts can't keep him awake for long, not with the painkillers and the weakness that comes with injury weighing down his thoughts, and he closes his eyes, lets sleep come heavy and crowd out what pain is left in his torso, although it can't quite silence the loss.

* * *

"Well?" The blue-armored figure doesn't turn, instead staying facing the large window looking out over the Concordia encampment.

"It's true," the other says softly. "Maul intends to ally our forces with Dooku, and he will not give us control of our planet."

The figure nods, seemingly unsurprised by this news, though through the helmet their voice is emotionless. "Sith Lords rarely keep their promises," they say. "Did you get it?"

"Yes." The warrior steps forward, extends their hand, a rectangular grey hilt held in their open palm. "We will follow you."

The figure reaches up with gauntleted hands, pulls off their helmet to reveal short-cropped red hair and vivid green eyes set in a pale, angular face. The look in her eyes could almost be described as hungry, though Bo-Katan Kryze would disagree. She reaches out, takes the hilt from the warrior, looks down, and one would have to be a Jedi to notice the slightest hesitation before she takes a deep breath and ignites the darksaber.

The warrior drops to their knees, says again, "We will follow you," and then he looks up and adds, "Mand'alor."

* * *

Yes, Bo-Katan does have a plan, as she quickly informs anyone who asks. Maul is dar'manda, not worthy of the darksaber nor the title of Mand'alor nor the allegiance of the Death Watch. And, though Bo-Katan is a warrior and a follower of the old ways, she is sick and tired of the Sith thinking the Mando'ade are so easily controlled, manipulated. No more.

And, while the Jedi are irritating, she's mostly ambivalent to most of them, content to leave them be as long as they return the favor-and the Jedi have the added advantages of being familiar with disposing of the Sith, having an army of clones of a former Mand'alor, and the Duchess' allegiance. (Not that just any Jedi will be acceptable, and Bo-Katan could care less about the Council.)

The Jedi have long been the enemies of true Mando'ade , but she's beginning to see that compromises must be made to achieve a common goal, and Dooku and Maul must die. So it is with a grim determination and the darksaber clearly visible on her belt that Bo-Katan, a contingent of twenty of her best warriors an honor guard behind her, approaches the Temple.

A few clones guard the entrance, which is really pointless, because if she wanted to invade their numbers aren't enough to stop her, but she halts just outside the doors.

After what the Sith have done to the Jedi (their numbers halved, an extermination that would've succeeded had it not been for the Togruta, Tano), she thinks they will accepted her offer.

After all, the Jedi need help.

"I'm here to speak with my sister," Bo-Katan says firmly, "as well as Generals Skywalker and Kenobi, and Commander Tano. I have a proposition they will be interested in hearing."

"Your sister?" one of the guards asks, and she nods firmly.

"Duchess Satine Kryze."

...

When the guard tells Satine that her sister and the Death Watch have come to see her, Cody can see the significance of that in the way she goes perfectly still, keeps herself icy and aloof and folds her hands in front of her. Cody has spent enough time with her recently to know - and he does similar things himself. His General had told him one day, when he'd convinced the Duchess to go eat something, that he needed Cody to keep an eye on her. Cody knows his General well enough to know that that's Obi-Wan's way of trying to help them both, and he isn't sure how he feels about that. Mostly, he tries not to think about it.

"Did she explain why?" she asks, coolly.

The guard shakes his head. "She said she had a proposition for yourself, General Skywalker, General Kenobi, and Commander Tano, but she wouldn't say what it was. She brought warriors with her, Duchess."

"Does she seem like she's going to attack?" Cody asks, because he must, of course. The Death Watch is still a terrorist threat.  
"I don't know, sir. I don't think so."

Cody thinks this reeks of an assassination attempt - the Death Watch has wanted to kill Satine for some time and sending her sister claiming she wants to speak to her… This is not a good idea, and he knows his General will back him up. They need to send the terrorists back to where they came from, with force if necessary.

"All due respect, Duchess, but we should turn them away," he says, taps his wristcomm intending to call Obi-Wan and General Skywalker about it.

"When I last saw her," Satine says, steadily, "she wouldn't even acknowledge knowing me. If she came asking to see me as her sister-"

"All the more reason to believe this is a trap," Cody says. He's not letting his General and Satine and Skywalker and Tano meet with her, not without strong conditions at the very least. He wants to send her off-world without so much as a token apology, because he doesn't trust them and he isn't going to fail his General in this and endanger his Duchess.

Satine sighs and gives him an understanding look. "I think we should speak with her, nonetheless. I am sure you and General Kenobi are capable of minimizing the threat, are you not?"

"Minimizing, but not eliminating, Duchess." There are always elements that cannot be controlled, and the Death Watch are old Mando'ade , warriors with resources and skills from generations of warfare at their disposal. "Let me discuss it with General Kenobi before we send her an answer. Please."

"Very well, Cody," Satine says. "Keep it quick, if you would please."

He nods - there's a small squad of terrorists outside their door, he hardly needs to be told to hurry.

General Kenobi is not allowed to walk. He's been confined to a wheelchair if he must be out of bed, and is still in physical therapy to help him get used to moving again, breathing properly. Cody's shot should have killed him, and recovery has been slow. Cody finds him in a hall near the med bay, sitting and staring out the windows of the Temple at Coruscant. Obi-Wan isn't allowed a wristcomm yet, which Cody thinks is because the medics want to make sure he isn't disturbed when he's resting or in therapy.

"General," he says, stopping a few feet away, and Obi-Wan turns and gives him a tired smile.

"Cody. What do you need?"

Cody still finds he can't meet Obi-Wan's eyes these days, although he wishes he could. He masks it by staring out the window too, spine straight, pretending to watch the scene intently. "Sir, a contingent of Death Watch warrior have come to the Temple. Their leader is apparently Bo-Katan Kryze, the Duchess' sister, and she insists on speaking to her, Skywalker, Tano, and yourself. I don't believe we should let her stay, sir, but Duchess Kryze wants to entertain her desire to talk."

"I see." Obi-Wan sighs, heavily, and Cody wishes he didn't have to bring this to his General. It is war, though, and there is no time for them to spend on wishing. While Obi-Wan always pushes himself far too much, it is true that waiting for total recovery is not a luxury most of them can afford. "Perhaps we could send her warriors home, or detain them, or require them to remain on their ship. I believe we could take enough precautions…" But Obi doesn't sound certain, and Cody thinks he understands. This woman is Satine's vod , and apparently they've been apart for a long time - but she's also one of the people who've been threatening Mandalore and trying to kill Satine for a long time.

"Probably, sir," Cody says, reluctantly. There is enough of a risk, however, that he doesn't want to take it. But it's not up to him, and Obi-Wan is aware enough of the dangers - Cody doesn't need to remind him. "The Death Watch is waiting for an answer and Satine said to be quick - should I comm General Skywalker?"

Obi-Wan sighs, rubs his forehead. "Yes. Tell them that if Bo-Katan is willing to send her warriors back to her ship and submit to a thorough search, we will discuss things with her. She must allow us to have a squad with us, as well."

Cody nods sharply and starts to turn away to tell Satine and not have to look at his General sitting pale and tired in his chair, but Obi stops him. "Cody," and he makes himself look back and tilt his head to show he's listening. "Cody, does she seem alright?"

"She always does," Cody says shortly, wryly.

"I know."

"I think she's afraid and… hoping, sir."

Obi-Wan sighs, smiles a little. "Of course. Tell Anakin to come meet me here."

"Yes, sir." Cody turns again, fast, and makes his escape before his General can ask him anything else. The Duchess needs his answer and he doesn't want to be here.

...

"No," Bo-Katan says flatly, when the Temple guard comes back with the message: we will discuss things with you if you send your warriors back to your ship and submit to a thorough search; we will have a squad with us. "They may bring their own warriors, I care not about that," and she waves one gauntleted hand casually, pretends not to notice the way the trooper flinches a bit. "But I will not send my warriors away. I am trusting the Jedi, and I expect them to return that trust, or this won't work."

The poor trooper just looks at her, and Bo-Katan can't help but wish (a little) that she could see the expression on his face. "I'm sorry," he says, sounds not at all sorry, more terrified, "but General Kenobi's instructions were quite clear: you agree to the conditions or you leave."

Bo-Katan ignores that. "If I was going to attack, I wouldn't walk up to the front door of the Jedi Temple," she says bitingly, rolls her eyes beneath her helmet, and she reaches to her belt, unhooks the darksaber (the guard flinches and his blaster is trained on her before she can do a thing). "Oh, stand down. Do you know what this is, trooper?" She doesn't wait for an answer, just continues. "Tell my sister I come as Mand'alor, with news regarding Maul and Dooku."

...

Rex stands by Anakin's shoulder, arms crossed over his chest, regulating his breathing in the hopes that Kix will stop staring at him with that look of concern . He has very strict rules about what he's allowed to do, and being part of a guard in case of an assassination attempt is pushing it. Anakin is still in physical therapy to get him used to his new prosthetic, although he seems more or less acclimated, Ahsoka's arm is still in a sling, and General Kenobi is in a wheelchair.

They don't exactly have the upper hand here, even with three (almost four, if he counts Kix) Jedi.

Bo-Katan (the Mand'alor, apparently) has at least agreed to leave most of her men behind, but an honor guard of Mandalorian warriors might be more than Rex and his vod'e can handle.

Ahsoka sends him a light wave of reassurance, and he accepts him with a hum of gratefulness although he's not really very anxious. Just wary. He shares Cody's opinion that this is a trap, so he keeps his hands settled on his modified DCs and stays as still and steady as he can so he doesn't aggravate his still-healing stomach.

The room is old enough that the door is an ornate wooden one with hinges, and when it creaks, the whole room turns toward it. Rex notes that Duchess Satine twists her hands together briefly before folding them together, going still.

He is tense himself, purely because his gut tells him if this comes to a fight, they'll be outmatched - and it's strange, but he's daunted at the idea of seeing the Death Watch. Mandalore is not his home, but he and his vod'e have adopted their language and customs, the old, warlike ones. There's some kind of kinship there that he's never tried to define - dealing with Duchess Satine has never made him feel anxious like this, because she is a pacifist and nobility.

These people are warriors, terrorists or no, and Rex isn't sure how he feels about all of it, about the idea of hearing his first language from people other than his vod'e .

It doesn't ultimately matter how he feels about it, though, he decides as the Temple guard steps into the room, followed by about ten warriors with the Death Watch sigil on their pauldrons. He has other things to worry about.

...

Bo-Katan looks around the room from behind her helmet's HUD, takes in the fully-armored troopers-eight of them, she counts, all with the same battle-stance she knows her chosen ten warriors possess: the mark of an experienced soldier. One trooper has a medic's insignia on his upper arm, and a lightsaber hilt on his belt, which is-interesting.

The three Jedi are all in varying states of convalescence; Kenobi is in a wheelchair, Skywalker is fiddling with a prosthetic leg, and Tano has an arm in a sling. She knows these three to be some of the best warriors the Jedi have ever produced, and the sight of them all still deep in recovery from the fight with the former Chancellor in the Senate is… well, it's humbling, if she's being honest with herself.

She's distracted herself from the person she's mostly here to see for as long as she can; now, Bo-Katan has almost no choice but to let her gaze shift to Satine, regal and imperious, cold and icy in a simple but lovely dress, her hair done up. Her sister has the familiar politician's mask on, though her light blue eyes are nervous and conflicted and her hands tightly folded. Bo-Katan watches the other for a long moment, then in a single fluid motion she reaches up and removes her helmet. Every one of the clone troopers has their blasters trained on her before she's even completed the motion, and she rolls her eyes. "Honestly," she says, signals her warriors to stand down, knowing they have their own weapons readied at the first sign of hostility. "If I wanted her dead, I would hardly march into the Temple and ask for three Jedi."

"You claimed to have information on Dooku," Skywalker says, voice hard, eyes harder, and she sighs.

"Yes. He has allied with Maul and Savage-who have taken over Mandalore, with that aruetii Vizla's help. Vizla is dead now," she adds, gritting her teeth, trying not to snarl. She fails, spits out a few choice swears in Mando'a, and then takes a deep breath, calms herself. "Maul intended to use our warriors to reinforce Dooku, as though the Kyr'tsad would obey dar'jetii after the last time. Mando'ad draar digu," and she murmurs the proverb under her breath, though she knows the entire room still hears.

"What do you want, Bo-Katan?" Satine's voice is quiet, but it rings like a bell through the room, draws every eye to her (Kenobi is worried, of course he is, Satine is his cyar'ika, Bo-Katan remembers that).

Well. If blunt is the way she's going to be… "I want the Sith dead," Bo-Katan says sharply, takes a step forward. "So do the Jedi. We are willing to work with Generals Kenobi and Skywalker and Commander Tano, as you three are the closest allies of our Duchess, Lady Kryze, Regent of Mandalore." Satine's face shifts, the mask failing, as she seems to finally realize what Bo-Katan is suggesting. "Regent and Mand'alor united, working together for the good of all mando'ade, whether new or old, Kyr'tsad or not, like the old days."

"Unite the clans," Satine murmurs, soft and almost longing, and Bo-Katan knows her sister will agree. It was once their dream, after all.

(Once upon a time, when they were both young, before Vizla had seduced her with his tales of true mando'ade, she and her older sister had whispered dreams of uniting the clans, the politician and the warrior; then the war had come, and her initiation to the ranks of the Kyr'tsad had been to prove her loyalty by killing her old family that she might join her new family, and those dreams had shattered like glass.)

Bo-Katan nods, smiles just a little. "Indeed. Haat, ijaa, haa'it," and she salutes, the old warriors' salute, her guard following her example.

...

Rex thinks the salute is premature, the phrase too - they've hardly agreed to anything yet, but even he can see the Duchess wants to make this alliance, and Rex has to admit it sounds like a genuine offer, potentially a good idea. So far they've heard that some half of the GAR is dead (and every time the number changes Rex feels sicker), and Separatist attacks have shot up in frequency and intensity, which Rex hopes they can chalk up to desperation.

They need help.

I don't trust her, he says to Ahsoka. They're terrorists still. And I'm not sure she's saying everything she wants out of this deal yet . He likes the idea of killing the Sith, sure, and having strong allies that can help them win, but he fully expects there to be a catch. There always is.

I know, but… Ahsoka's mind seems pulled between two opinions and out of the corner of his eyes he sees her lift her good shoulder in a tiny shrug. She seems like she's being honest, at least. And we need Dooku and Maul and Savage gone.

Rex sends a cautious thread of agreement.

General Kenobi strokes his beard, frowning, and meets the Duchess' eyes for a moment. "I appreciate your forthrightness, Mand'alor ," he says, deferentially. "It's a good suggestion, and I'm sure that would be good for Mandalore. However, we must consider how it will look for the Jedi to ally themselves with known terrorists. Now is not a good time for us to lose the people's trust."

Bo-Katan's lips curl in a small sneer and Rex thinks that warriors make bad politicians for just this reason. They're too honest. "You haven't had it for some time, Kenobi, and while this war drags on it will stay that way." Her eyes flick over their group, appraising, and Rex tenses a little on instinct. "Much of your Order is dead and so is your army. You're in no position to refuse help for the sake of idealistic principles."

That is technically true, but Rex still finds indignation straightening his spine, because he knows how they look, injured and tired, and he knows many of his vod'e are dead, and the Jedi somewhat scattered, but he doesn't really appreciate her shoving their noses in it, either.

"You make a fair point," Kenobi says, nodding, and Rex stifles his reaction to that because again, technically , Bo-Katan is right. They need allies, and whether it will make them appear to the best political advantage or not, turning down the help of some thousands of Mandalorian warriors could be a huge mistake. As long as Bo-Katan doesn't have any further stipulations, which Rex really thinks she must. "But those idealistic principles are what have maintained what little trust the people still have, and what make us different than the Sith you want to kill so badly. If we win with your help, I fear the people may never trust us again."

...

Bo-Katan really, honestly does not care if anyone ever trusts the Jedi ever again. That's not her problem. The only thing she cares about is getting the Sith dead so she can have her planet back.

But she doesn't think Kenobi is going to agree-he does care about the Jedi's standing in the eyes of the public, after all. So she ignores him. He's too much a diplomat, a politician, for her taste (she can see why he and Satine fit so well). Instead, she focuses on the other Jedi General in the room, because there's one thing her childhood education to prepare her to be a possible Duchess can still be useful for: she's familiar with quite a lot of cultures.

"Skywalker," she says, notices the way he frowns at her (he doesn't trust her, none of them do, which is smart of them, she would be embarrassed on their behalf if they did). "That's a common surname taken by Tatooine slaves without a clan name, isn't it?"

He flinches.

And that's answer enough. "My people, her people," and she nods at her sister, "are slaves in all but name to Maul. He's not a fair ruler-"

"You have no idea what slavery is," Skywalker snaps, and he spins on his heel and storms away, leans against the wall, hands clenched into fists.

"You're right," Bo-Katan agrees, which she knows no one expected her to do. "My enslavement was of a much more… subtle, insidious nature," and she shrugs one shoulder, deliberately casual. "Chains of my own making."

The soldier with the jaig eyes painted in dark blue on his helmet looks tense, angry probably, and Bo-Katan figures she should probably care, but she honestly doesn't. Even though the jaig eyes mean he's probably one of, if not the most elite of the guard. In the end, he's a clone; his opinion doesn't matter. Neither do any of the Jedi's opinions, really. This is between herself and Satine, this is Mand'alor and Regent, and she doesn't think the Jedi-especially Kenobi- understand that.

"In the end, Kenobi," she says, "I am Mand'alor, and my sister is Lady Kryze, Regent of Mandalore. It doesn't matter what the Jedi say. If the two traditional leaders of Mandalore wish to unite the clans and declare war on the Separatists, we will. The question is, will my warriors be working with you, where you at least have some control over our movements, or will you let my sister leave your protection?"

...

Rex can think of a few things he wants to say to Bo-Katan, but now is not the time for that, at all. This is supposed to be a diplomatic discussion, even though the Mand'alor is pushing them on things she would do better avoiding. He settles for curling his hands into fists and sending a few insulting phrases Ahsoka's way. He wishes she wouldn't feel so amused .

General Kenobi frowns, just a little, and Rex knows Bo-Katan has said the right thing - but he also knows Kenobi is stubborn. "You are making a number of unsupported assumptions in presenting me with those options. No one has agreed to anything, as of yet."

The Duchess lifts her chin a little. "Allow me to rectify that mistake, Master Kenobi. Haat, ijaa, haa'it, Mand'alor. " She looks proud and certain.

"Now I think you'll have to choose one of my unsupported options," Bo-Katan says dryly, and Rex scowls. Although she is right. He thinks the Duchess has put them in a difficult position now, though, because committing the Jedi to this alliance would mean all that Obi-Wan was worried about, most likely, but if they decide to go about this war separately… Rex thinks they have to do this.

Kenobi leans forward in his chair (and Rex sees Kix step towards him), clearly annoyed. "This is not a decision I can make lightly, Mand'alor Kryze. If I were only committing myself, I assure you, I wouldn't hesitate. But I'm speaking for my Order, and the entire GAR."

Rex hopes he imagines one of the Mando'ade muttering what's left of them , because otherwise any alliance may be fairly short-lived. Ahsoka soothes over his anger and he sends a general rumble of discontent. He doesn't like this.

"I'm sure your armies won't object to more support, especially now, Kenobi."

Really the only thing at stake here is the Jedi's reputation, if Rex is honest - there is still a bare possibility that this is some kind of coup, but he trusts the Duchess' judgement more than that. And it's not exactly that the Jedi's reputation isn't important, but the war has to end, has to be won. This alliance would help. He bites back the comment he wants to make, however - he can't undermine Kenobi, and he's aware his opinion is not welcome in this instance. Kenobi and his General already know their armies need reinforcements, without him reminding them.

...

"I know that," Kenobi snaps, sharp. "But the fact remains that the Death Watch is an organization of militant terrorists, and the Jedi are committed to keeping the peace-"

Bo-Katan cuts him off, because, quite frankly, she's annoyed. "And you're doing such a fantastic job of that."

"Better than you are," Skywalker says, turning around to glare.

"Actually," Satine says, rising from her chair, shooting Skywalker a look, "this is perhaps the most united Mandalore has been since before the civil war," and she crosses the room to stand by Bo-Katan. Halfway there, Kenobi reaches out, catches her arm.

"Satine, the Death Watch has attempted to assassinate you multiple times, you can't just do this-"

Satine (bless her older sister's sarcasm) just pulls her arm away. "I believe I just did," she says coolly. "If you think I will willingly turn down an opportunity to unify all of Mandalore, you don't truly know me."

Bo-Katan smirks. "There's the fire I remember, sister," she says, exchanges a bit of a smile with Satine, and then she shifts, makes direct eye contact with Skywalker, says conversationally, "I would think that the Jedi would be more concerned about ending slavery, especially when one of their own is a former slave. But then again, the Order hasn't done a thing about the Outer Rim, has it? Really, not a surprise."

...

Rex takes a solid step forward, tilting his head a little to one side because that's enough . If she isn't going to be diplomatic, then kriff it, neither is he. "I don't see you rushing to their rescue, chakaar . Until you know what you're talking about, why don't you kriffing watch your mouth?" Ahsoka projects a warning to back off, but he can feel a fierce agreement in her thoughts, and frankly he could care less about being polite at this point. She's barely extended them the courtesy of restraint, why should he?

The Death Watch warriors shift, already-tense hands tightening around half-raised weapons, and Rex smiles behind his helmet. Before Bo-Katan can react, however, one of her guard speaks up. His accent is thick, his Basic barely intelligible. "Like you jetiise have always done, right? Like they did at the massacre of Galidraan?"

That isn't the point , that's barely even relevant (and an insult to his Jedi), and Rex scowls. "Don't change the subject, di'kut . This is war. My vod'edie by the thousands and you expect me to be sorry you lost three hundred?" The Battle of Galidraan was a disaster, everyone knows that - kriff, Rex thinks it's probably something of a tragedy. But Bo-Katan had brought up how many of his vod'e are dead and he thinks it's this warrior who had made the comment about the GAR and he's angry . (His wound throbs in time with his heartbeat and he thinks maybe he shouldn't provoke them when he's in no shape to fight.)

Rex! Ahsoka says, and Rex shakes his head a little, ignores her.

Finally the warrior steps forward, pushes through the rest of the guard, and Rex takes a few steps forward of his own. "War? We were not at war with the jetiise , but they still slaughtered us without cause. I stood with my Mand'alor when the jetiise cut every last one of us down." He takes another step forward, body taut with tension, and Rex finds himself hesitating because this warrior clearly isn't the naive shiny he'd thought he was. His instincts finally tell him he's pushed too far, too fast, but he doesn't take a step back, doesn't stop staring at the guard as he lifts his hands, grabs his helmet and yanks it off with a sharp, short movement. He tosses it to one side, lifts his chin, and Rex is grateful that his own helmet hides his shock. Half the warrior's tan face is disfigured by a jagged scar from jaw to scalp, red and raw and twisted. Clearly nothing was ever done to treat the wound. He barely has anything left that could be called an eye. "Dooku gave me this himself , right before your jetiise and their Council sold me into slavery."

Rex takes a fast, sloppy step back, can't help but drop his head as shame rushes hot through his veins. Kriff. Oh, kriff.

"It was fifteen years before the Kyr'tsad found me and got me out, adiik . So don't lecture me about war."

Rex swallows, reaches up and tugs off his own helmet, tucks it under his arm and meets the man's eye, knows he's nearly entirely in the wrong (although he doesn't really regret insulting Bo-Katan, but that isn't the point). Fifteen years of slavery. Rex thinks that would kill him, fifteen years of what the Zygerrians did to him.

Because of the Jedi . He barely understands that.

" N'ceta ," he says, although it's hard to keep looking the warrior in the eye and he can hear his heartbeat in his ears. However, the guard clearly didn't expect that from him at all, because everything is suddenly very still and Rex wishes there weren't so many people here.

(It occurs to him that Fives would never let him live this down if he were here, and that doesn't help .)

The scars around his neck, on his back and arms, itch and he still doesn't feel like he's said enough to show how sorry he is, because fifteen years and three hundred men dead and Rex had as good as called him ignorant.

...

The entire room is just silent.

The Death Watch soldiers have yet to let go of their weapons, though Bo-Katan stands calmly, her eyes pained as she watches her guard; Anakin looks furious and also horrified and sick, and Ahsoka's not sure what Obi-Wan's feeling: his face is unreadable. The warrior's face is a mess of a scar, and she can vaguely make out what looks like the original 'saber stroke amid the riven, distended mass of skin; from among the folds of red-raw tissue, one clear, sharp grey eye stares out.

She steps forward, drawing his attention, almost without meaning to; but the skin on her hands and her back burns with remembered pain and she nearly chokes on the memory of collars and shock whips. "How did you survive?" she breathes out, one hand going almost unconsciously to her neck, tracing at the scars. A quick glance at Rex, and then she says, "Three-four-" and frowns, considering, "I think four days in Kadavo-the Zygerrians-" and she shakes her head, stops. Rex feels like he's drowning in shame, and she projects warm love, forgiveness, understanding.

"I think I need to have a talk with the Council," Anakin snaps out, hard and dangerous, eyes flashing, and Ahsoka winces.

"Skyguy, please don't get yourself expelled-"

And he whirls on her. "I don't want to be a part of an Order that thinks slavery is acceptable!" He's shouting, almost, snarling the words out low and fierce. "The clones are already slaves in everything but name, Snips, haven't you seen that? Didn't Kamino show you that? The Jedi know that and don't do anything."

And then he spins back, storms from the room, all fire and rage and betrayal, and all Ahsoka can do is gape.

...

Obi-Wan scans the room, taking in the tension and the discomfort and, still, an undercurrent of anger. He catches Satine's eye for a moment and remembers this is yet another reason why she so abhors war, why she hates that the Jedi became involved. Her sister looks defensive, like she expects him to try to defend his Order. He thinks if he did that she'd make him regret ever opening his mouth.

Fortunately, in a way, he has no plans to defend the Council. He has long thought they don't do enough to stop the spread of slavery, and he knows (feels agreement in the Force) that Galidraan wasn't right . The Mandalorian warriors stare at him, at his troopers, defiant, and this is an old, old anger.

He's sitting here talking to them about the people's trust in the Jedi and the Jedi's duty to protect the peace, when to these men and women, the Jedi have never been anything but enemies and killers.

Although they're terrorists, Obi thinks it may be the Jedi who helped push them to be.

He sighs and leans back in his chair, shakes his head. "It seems the Jedi owe your people a debt, Mand'alor ." He shifts, considers standing, and actually feels Kix draw on the Force and project a silent command: don't you kriffing dare . He wants to find a way to show his sincerity, but he's rather limited, so he just inclines his head. "Forgive my hesitancy. I'd be glad to form an alliance with you." He glances at Rex and the scarred warrior, the one the records named Jak Ordo, the only survivor of the battle - massacre - besides Jango Fett.

The clones have inherited this alliance, in a way - the Force seems to hum at that thought.

...

"Jak," Bo-Katan says quietly, and her second-in-command nods, retrieves his helmet and jams it back on his head, falls back into his place. She takes a careful step towards Kenobi. "This is not an easy alliance for us to make, Kenobi. You must understand that."

He nods, bows his head a little. "I do, Mand'alor. And, for what it's worth," and he pauses, as though considering, "had the Jedi Archives recorded your fate, Jak Ordo, I would have made certain you were freed."

Bo-Katan feels a strange almost warmth at that-a Jedi would've freed the mando'ad they'd wrongfully enslaved so long ago? It seems crazy, but… " Haat, ijaa, haa'it, jetii," she says, salutes again. It's almost impossible to believe.

The Jedi are helping. Willingly.

...

Rex stays close to Ahsoka through what little more conversation Kenobi and the Duchess and Bo-Katan have; then Kenobi asks Cody to help him go after Anakin (and Cody does, shoots Rex a commiserating glance as he leaves) and Bo-Katan orders her warriors to go back to their ship. Rex will be glad when they leave, he thinks. He's exhausted and his stomach burns and he still feels intensely guilty. He should have had more restraint, but he feels worn thin these days.

It's hardly an excuse.

The guard starts to file out of the room after the Duchess and Bo-Katan leave, and Rex's men follow. He starts to walk too but he's not actually supposed to do that much walking and it hurts and he's tired and images from Kadavo are flashing in the back of his mind, so he stops. Can we sit? Just for a while, I don't think I should try to walk back.

Please , she thinks, and he makes for the nearest chair, a neat, clean, soft one, and sits down with a stifled gasp of pain. Bending is not wise yet. Ahsoka comes with him, settles almost gingerly on his lap, and he tugs off his gauntlets and starts unbuckling his pauldron and bracers and chest and back armor till he can drop all the pieces on the floor and pull Ahsoka against his shoulder, careful himself. He can feel her shoulder hurts, and she's seeing the same things he is, Agruss' smile and arcing blue electricity and pickaxe on stone.

He thinks it's because of those memories that he's so slow to realize that not all of the soldiers have left the room - it takes the warrior (Jak, they'd called him) clearing his throat to get Rex's attention and he jolts , has to bite back a cry of pain as he levers himself more upright, curls his arm too tight around Ahsoka's shoulders defensively.

" Jetii, adiik ," Jak says gruffly, and Rex nods, uncomfortable and ashamed again. He can't see Jak's scar anymore but he might as well be able to. "I want to talk to you."

"Alright," Rex answers. He feels Ahsoka press reassurance through the bond and it helps a little, but not much. Of course he couldn't have been expected to know Jak was a slave or a veteran, but he shouldn't have let his temper get away with him.

That's done now, Rex , Ahsoka thinks gently.

It is, and Rex has to deal with the consequences. He wishes Jak would take his helmet back off, if only so it feels like they're on more equal footing (as equal as they can be as he sits there injured and ashamed with his cyare in his lap). But he's hardly earned that much respect.

"Your scars, jetii. You spoke of the Zygerrians. What do you know of slavery?" The question is blunt, harsh, simple. Rex tries to calm some of the worse memories that rush through Ahsoka's mind when she answers.

"Too much."

...

"Too much," Ahsoka breathes out, and she closes her eyes against the onslaught of awful memory that rolls over her mind. The boy, Rex on the ground screaming, a shock whip around her headtails, Rex tied to a frame (use the Force again and we'll kill him). She shudders a little, hides her face in Rex's shoulder-she doesn't want to talk about it. Doesn't want to.

"How did a jetii end up in a Zygerrian auction?" Jak asks, and she doesn't look up at him, can't.

"It was a mission. It went wrong," she says, and that's all she'll say. Any more and she'll be crying again, be trapped in the memories, and she presses against Rex's mind and curls tighter against his chest. She can't even begin to comprehend the idea of being a slave for fifteen years, not when four days had so easily, thoroughly broken her.

Jak doesn't speak for a few minutes, as though considering, and then he says, "You have the scars of their slaves."

She jerks, flinches a little, can't help it, because she'd not outright said that yet and she doesn't really want to talk about it and can't he just go away? Rex, I can't-

Rex soothes her, gently, though she can tell the memories are fresh in his mind too. "This isn't the easiest thing to talk about," he says, a bit sharp, defensive, and she shushes him quietly.

"Rex, cyare, it's okay," she tells him, shifting to look up at him a little. "He's earned the right to ask." And she takes a careful breath, says, "We, Rex and I, we spent-four days in a processing facility on Kadavo, it was-not good."

That's an understatement, but she can't talk about the details without losing herself in the flashbacks even still, and she's not sure Jak even wants to know, anyway.

...

Rex rubs his hand over Ahsoka's shoulder lightly, repetitively, because the soothing motion helps him, too. His hand falters a moment when Jak turns to him, but he lifts his chin and holds his gaze anyway (stifles the urge to tug on the collar of his blacks and make sure his scars aren't visible). His collar burns hot and choking and he doesn't have the strength anymore to try to stand, to hold back the screams and the crying because he just needs it to stop.

"You too, adiik? " Jak asks, and Rex wishes he had any kriffing idea what the warrior is thinking, but Jak's posture is perfect and his stance merely battle ready. Rex doesn't even think he'd be able to read the man's face if he didn't have his helmet on. He does his best to shut down his own expression, leave his face more or less blank, although it's hard when screams are echoing in his ears.

" 'Lek . Yeah, me too." He hesitates, then pushes himself to sit up a little straighter even (and that hurts and right now pain makes the memories worse and Ahsoka sends him a sharp thought and a warning that if he doesn't sit still she'll make him). "So you'll understand why I didn't take too kindly to your leader taunting my General about that." He doesn't mean to sound bitter, because at this point he's in no position, but he can taste stone dust and electricity and Bo-Katan had been talking about things she didn't understand .

Jak grunts a little in acknowledgement, which Rex thinks is probably the best he's going to get. And he thought Cody was quiet. Then Jak turns back toward Ahsoka, reaches up and pulls his helmet off again, meets her eyes. "I hate the jetiise . You make yourselves the judges of things you don't understand and call it justice. But I'll cooperate with you, Jetii Tano. Not the others."

Rex blinks and meets Ahsoka's surprised look his way. "Okay," she says, nodding. "I'm not actually a Jedi, though."

"Even better," Jak says, and Rex finds himself almost wanting to smile, but it's not that funny, so he doesn't. He runs his hand over his collar and pushes back another memory, keeps holding onto Ahsoka's thoughts. He's too tired for this, probably, but he never really has gotten the luxury of good timing.

...

Ahsoka hums a little, almost smiles. "Thank you," she says softly. "You honor me."

Jak nods, flashes a sharp smile. "I do," he says calmly, and then he looks back at Rex again. "Adiik, you would have been Mando'ade, in the old days." A pause, then, dryly, "That is an honor too."

And the old Mandalorian turns and walks away, helmet tucked under his arm.

Ahsoka blinks, stares up at Rex, shocked. Did he just-?

...

Rex sighs, staring at the door, torn between being annoyed and being appreciative of what was, truthfully, in fairness, an honor. It would be more of one, he thinks wryly, if Jak would stop calling him a boy . "We're going to have to work with him more often, aren't we?" he says, grimacing.

"Since I'm the only Jedi he's willing to talk to, I guess so," Ahsoka says, and she's definitely laughing at him.

"Wonderful." Rex rubs his forehead and sinks back into the chair further, hisses at the pain in his stomach again. "If this is going to work he has to stop talking to me like I'm a child."

"You called him di'kut , Rex," Ahsoka reminds him, and he winces a little. He's going to regret that for a while.

"One time," he mutters.

"And technically you are-"

Rex sends her a warning thought. If you finish that sentence I'm going to sit on you, cyare .

Ahsoka laughs and that helps dispell more of the images from Kadavo. I dare you .

When I'm not dying , maybe . He pulls her closer to him and kisses her on the cheek. We're safe now, you know .

More or less, she agrees, slips her hand around the back of his neck and into the collar of his blacks to run her fingers over his scar. He hums a little and leans into the touch.

I still don't feel so good about this alliance. Maybe it isn't a trap, but if the Kyrt'sad all hate the Jedi this much, I don't see how we're going to do this . And he thinks maybe they don't have such a high opinion of him and his vod'e , either, which is bound to lead to tension between their forces - not really a good thing to have on the battlefield.

Munit tome'tayl, skotah iisa . True for the Mandalorians and true for the clones, too. Perhaps not the best combination.

I think we can , Ahsoka says, her mental voice light with optimism, almost. This whole thing turned out alright and you insulted their leader and their second in command.

Fair enough , Rex says, although part of the reason it was alright was because they had General Kenobi with them and because he knows how to swallow his pride and apologize. We'll have to make this work. I just don't think it's going to be easy .

When is it ever?

Rex snorts. She isn't wrong. And he's getting kriffing tired of it. In times past it would have been easier to remind himself it's just war , but with the possibility of the war ending has come an unfortunate level of impatience with the fighting and the politics and pain. Although thinking about what will happen to his men after is barely better.

At least with these new allies, if everything works out the way the Duchess and Bo-Katan and Kenobi hope, they may actually be able to tip the balance in their favor. At this point, he (almost) doesn't mind the embarrassment if it means they could win and go… go home.

Wherever home is.

* * *

 **Mando'a translations:**

 _K'uur, udesii:_ Hush, be calm/calm down

 _Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum:_ I love you

 _Mand'alor_ : sole leader; title for the ruler of the Mandalorians

 _Dar'manda:_ not Mandalorian, an outsider

 _Mando'ad_ : child of Mandalore (plural is Mando'ade)

 _Aruetii:_ traitor

 _Kyr'tsad:_ Death Watch (literally "death society")

 _dar'jetii_ : not Jedi, usually used to refer to Fallen Jedi or Sith

 _Mando'ad draar digu:_ "A Mandalorian never forgets."

 _Haat, ijaa, haa'it:_ "Truth, honor, vision." Said to seal a pact/oath

 _Chakaar:_ petty thief, lowlife, grave robber, scumbag

 _Jetiise:_ plural of Jetii/Jedi

 _Di'kut:_ moron, idiot

 _Adiik:_ a child between 3-13 years old; Mando'a doesn't have gendered words so when Jak addresses Rex with this, read as "boy" or "child"

 _N'ceta (or Ni ceta):_ I'm sorry; literally "I kneel" - a deep, subservient apology that is rarely used

 _'Lek:_ short for "elek" (yes); means "yeah"

 _Munit tome'tayl, skotah iisa:_ "Long memory, short fuse."


	4. Chapter 4

Jesse is pissed.

Honestly, so they have to work with Death Watch, which wouldn't be a completely horrible thing if it weren't for the fact that they're all terrorists and also half of them have never seen a real battle before. He could deal with the hostility then, honestly, he really could.

But for some reason the Jedi decided it would be a good idea to stick the kriffing mando'ade in the barracks with the 501st, as though there aren't enough barracks on Coruscant to give Death Watch their own, especially after Order 66. Order 66, which several of the men of the 501st had participated in, if only because they hadn't all gotten their chips out before going back to the front, and the surgery wasn't a safe one to do in the field. No one had thought it'd be an issue, not with the Chancellor arrested. They'd all been so, so wrong.

But the vod'e all know that, they don't need the mando'ade reminding them of it, or even worse, mocking them for it.

"No true Mando'ade would turn on his vod'e," one says, and Jesse has finally had enough.

He jerks to his feet, snarls out, "Ge'hutuune like you Kyr'tsad have no idea what being a true mando'ade means," because maybe he and his vod'edon't entirely know either but at least they have more of a code of honor, at least, they're not terrorists, they don't try to murder their own Duchessin cold blood, willingly, under their own control.

The Death Watch warrior, a young man with black hair and dark eyes in his pale face, jumps up as well, storms forward. "You are dar'manda, you have no right to speak our language!"

And Jesse snaps.

He lunges forward, ignoring Kix's shout (Jesse, ori'vod, get the kriff back to your bunk), swings an uppercut at the mando'ad's chin with one gauntleted fist. The Death Watch warrior blocks, aims a kick that Jesse easily evades, and he feints at the warrior's head again then slams a punch into his ribs, which connects. Through the beskar'gam, the punch is much less effective, but the mando'ad swears and throws a wild punch at Jesse's nose-a punch Jesse sidesteps, and he jabs his elbow into the mando'ad's throat, sweeps his feet out from underneath him with one leg, uses his weight to shove the younger, less experienced warrior to the ground.

The warrior is coughing, choking, and Jesse feels a surge of savage pleasure at that: maybe it'll remind the di'kut to watch his kriffing mouth. He straddles the mando'ad, balls his fist again and punches the other in the face, feels the bone of his nose snap very satisfyingly beneath his knuckles, and he grins, wild and feral and fierce, showing his teeth. "You Kyr'tsad mando'ade are landuur." He lifts his arm again, then swears as the warrior nearly throws Jesse off, and he struggles back to a dominant position, punches the warrior in the face again-

And then the door to the barracks opens, and Jesse looks over to see his Captain, his Commander, and Jak Ordo entering.

Oh, shit.

...

Rex and Ahsoka had been in the med bay, getting painkillers and having Ahsoka's bandages changed, and they chose to walk back from there to the barracks. Rex is worn out from the walk when he and Ahsoka get back, and he nods to Jak Ordo at the door (the veteran warrior had apparently been purchasing supplies for his medic) and presses the keypad code to let him in with them.

With the door opening comes a rush of sound, and Rex swears . The scene that greets him is exactly what he'd hoped it wouldn't be. Clustered, shouting, pushing soldiers draw his attention to two bodies in the middle of the barracks, Jesse in his familiar armor on top of a mando'ad , slamming a fist into his face. Hot anger blazes up Rex's spine, burns off his tiredness, and he pushes himself into a run through the squads, feels Ahsoka and Jak doing the same. He can't karking have this happening, kriff Jesse and his temper.

The Mandalorian's face is a mass of blood but he's still struggling, and Rex grits his teeth ( too much, Jesse, too much ) and grabs Jesse bodily by the shoulders, hauls him back, ignoring the horrible stabbing pain in his torso. "Back off right now , vod . Kriffing udesii ."

Jak bends down, silent, grabs the back of the warrior's armor and drags him off the floor, dangling in the air, coughing and glaring hatefully at Jesse and now Rex - but that isn't Rex's focus at the moment, and he turns back to his vod with a glare.

Jesse shrugs off Rex's hands and scowls, twisting his lip to bare his teeth. "They said we were dar'manda , sir."

"And you kriffing attacked him like a shiny with no restraint?" Rex snarls, putting a hand on his shoulder and forcing him back a few steps, because Jesse is still glowering, breathing hard, and he thought better of his vod than this. "So what?"

"He told us not to speak Mando'a, Rex, they can't do that -"

" Ori'vod , he only did that after you called him ge'hutuun . What did you expect?" Kix says sharply, and Rex sighs fast, heavy, and glances over at Jak, who has hauled his warrior a short distance away and appears to be listening intently while he explains.

Ahsoka steps up by his shoulder, sighs and crosses her arms. "Why would you do that, Jesse?"

"You know better," Rex snaps. He'd already shamed himself earlier today, and he would have thought Jesse would have seen they need to cooperate- but instead one of his most experienced men has reflected terribly on him and his entire battalion.

"Sir," Jesse says, with an evident effort to calm himself, although his eyes are still blazing . "He - and the rest of them - were mocking us for Order 66 and the chips and all of it. I wasn't gonna let it slide, sir."

Rex grits his teeth till his jaw hurts, but shakes his head. "I need you to sit down, vod . Now. I understand but kriffing pull it together ."

Jesse scowls mutinously, but steps back to his bunk and sits heavily, Kix going to stand by him with a nod at Rex.

Ahsoka feels furious , maybe more so than Jesse, and Rex tries to remind her to calm down as he turns to Jak, hoping to apologize for Jesse and patch this over (and make sure they do not provoke his men about that order again, because they don't deserve it and they shouldn't have to try to ignore those sorts of comments). Jak has set his warrior back down on the floor, although he's still holding onto his back armor. The mando'adwipes blood away from his nose and winces a little; his nose is definitely broken, lip split and starting to swell. Rex can't help a certain satisfaction.

Let that teach the di'kut to mock his vod'e .

Rex smirks, just a little, at the warrior, then looks at Jak Ordo with a slight, deferential nod. "I apologize on behalf of my vod ," he says stiffly.

Jak grunts, shakes his warrior a little and lets go of him. "And I for this one."

Rex nods, accepts it, and Jak pushes his way through his men without further comment, presumably headed for his designated bunk. Rex turns to address Jesse again, because they can't have dissent like this between their armies and the shinies in their battalion will follow Jesse's example.

"The least you could have done, hut'uun, was finish the job and kill the rest of the jetiise ." Rex stiffens and turns, automatically dropping his hand to Jesse's shoulder to keep him seated, although the blood is rushing in his ears and his free hand has curled into a fist. The mando'ad is sneering, leaning forward, far too sure of himself. "You couldn't even finish that one, ures'kot child she is." Rex doesn't mean to grip Jesse's pauldron so hard but if he doesn't, he thinks both he and his vod might get themselves in trouble. Ahsoka feels dangerously close to losing her temper, and Rex tries to calm her down, but he doesn't think that with how angry he is, he's actually helping .

The mando'ad looks at Ahsoka, licks a drop of blood from his upper lip. "How's it feel, jetii? To be so weak you can get that kind of wound from a few pitiful dar'mandase? " He cocks his head slightly to one side, so confident , and Rex lets go of Jesse's shoulder with a soft, fierce oath, curls his hands into fists, although he's unsure what he's going to do. Kriffing enough.

...

Ahsoka tries not to react, she really does.

Mostly.

Somewhat.

And then the Death Watch warrior snarks out another rude comment, this time aimed at her, and Ahsoka spins away from Rex, stares dangerously at him; for a moment she just freezes, watches him, and then he smirks at her and she loses her precarious control over her temper.

A brief use of the Force has her sling on the ground, and she jerks her 'sabers to her hands, flips over the warrior's head with a Force-augmented jump, and lands behind him with both her lightsabers crossed at his throat. (The entire barracks has gone very still, the only sound the humming of her 'sabers.) She holds the pose for just long enough to make her point (behind her, she senses Jak slowly standing once again, his helmet left on his bunk), then withdraws, returns her 'sabers to her belt, steps back. "You mean the lightsaber wound that cut completely through my shoulder?" she snaps out. "I got that from killing Darth Sidious, also known as Chancellor Palpatine, the Sith Master. I decapitated him with the same move I used on you- after being electrocuted by Force-lightning multiple times. And I did it to save my men, while the Force screamed with the pain of the deaths of thousands of Jedi. Can you understand that, soldier? Have you ever been in a real battle?"

The mando'ad looks down, and Ahsoka turns away from him, walks over to the bunks. "Jesse," she says, and he looks up immediately.

"Yes, Commander?"

"We need this alliance to work," and she keeps her voice low, "but it's not fair to you to force you to listen to this. Instead of attacking, though, let Rex or Anakin or one of us know," and she raises her voice. "All of you, that applies," and she knows the entire battalion will have gotten the message soon.

"Commander," and it's Kix, weary and annoyed. "Why do I even bother?"

He holds up the sling, and she grins sheepishly, takes it from him, settles it back on her arm. "Sorry, Kix."

"You'll be sorry if you ruin the six hours I spent in surgery, with four Jedi healers to support me, with a stupid stunt like that," and his eyes flash a bit. "If you kriff this up you won't be able to use that arm, so please, Ahsoka, for kriff's sake, can you leave the sling on for three more weeks?"

Ahsoka winces, can't quite meet his eyes. "If I'd realized how bad it was going to be, I wouldn't have let him stab me?" she hazards, but Kix shakes his head, and she grimaces. "Okay, yeah I would've, but it was necessary, and it worked, and do we have to have this argument again?"

...

Rex sighs, glances at Brii in time to see the kid mouth along with Kix as he says, "We'll have this discussion as often as we need to until you listen to me ." Rex has to fight off a smile, because now Jak Ordo has shoved his warrior back to stand behind him and is looking balefully between the two groups. Rex should probably make another apology, for diplomacy's sake, but he's had enough of playing the diplomat for today and it's been the mando'ad who's pushed this disaster from the start.

"I want to talk to you, Jak," Rex says shortly, shoots a look at the warriors behind him. "If you don't mind." If this lovely arrangement is going to work, it's going to require some restraint from the Mandalorians, too, not just his vod'e .

"Fine." Jak turns to his men. "Get back to your bunks and keep your mouths shut."

Rex thinks neither of their men are exactly appearing to their best advantages today. He gestures for Jak to follow him (he thinks that might annoy him, but that's too bad; these are his barracks) and goes over to a row of empty bunks, sits down on one because he hurts ; he'd been in no shape to drag Jesse around like he had. Jak stays standing in front of him, arms crossed.

"Your warriors can't talk about that order," Rex says. It's too much, too personal, and he can barely listen to it himself, much less force his men to put up with it. They've lost too much to have it shoved back in their faces. "We just lost millions of vod'e in the span of a day. Think whatever you want about the Jedi, but we're supposed to fight for them and instead we were made to kill them. I will not expect my men to listen in silence to your warriors making light of their pain." Not even for the alliance.

Jak holds Rex's gaze for a minute, the grey eye calculating, then he nods stiffly. "I understand, Alor'ad ."

Rex clenches his teeth as he presses his hand to the bunk and pushes himself back to his feet; all the same, a hiss of pain escapes him because he's really, really pushed himself too much today. "Thank you," he says, hand automatically going to his stomach as he smiles a little.

"I don't do this for you, adiik ," Jak says dismissively, and Rex rolls his eyes and brushes past the older mando'ad . He'll take what concessions he can get, however he can get them. He doesn't think he's going to like this alliance much.

For that matter, neither are his vod'e .

...

Ahsoka cuts off mid-sentence and swears when she feels a sharp stab of pain from Rex; Kix is used to this and gives her a look, as though to say this conversation isn't over before asking, "What is it?"

"He's an idiot," Ahsoka snaps, storms over towards the unoccupied bunks where Rex and Jak are talking.

"Tell me something I don't know," Kix mutters under his breath behind her.

She pretends not to hear.

"Rex!" she says, glares sharply at him. "Sit the kriff down and stop aggravating your stomach."

He glares, looks over at Jak almost instinctively-Ahsoka almost thinks she sees a glimmer of amusement in the older warrior's eye as he shakes his head and walks off to his bunk (she's pretty sure he's muttering something under his breath, but she can't tell what). "It's not my fault," Rex tries, and she just gives him a look.

"Captain, you shouldn't have been a part of the guard," Kix says. "Sit down, armor off, now," and there's a bit of Force behind his words-that tends to happen when he gets stressed or upset or frustrated. "I need to make sure you haven't torn anything open. Why is it always me?" and the last sentence is mumbled under his breath.

(Part of her notices the mando'ade are mostly just… watching, eyes darting between her and Rex and Kix and Jesse, but she doesn't really care right now. Rex is more important.)

...

Rex does not want to take off his armor right now; he doesn't trust the Death Watch warriors even remotely. "Can't we do this later, Kix? I'm sure it's fine , it doesn't feel good but I don't think I've really done anything bad."

"Captain," Kix says, calmly, but with a heavy bite to his voice, "take your kriffing armor and shirt off."

Rex doesn't want to let Kix examine him here in the middle of his men and the kriffing Death Watch. But the thought of actually getting up and walking again is worse (maybe), and Kix wouldn't let him anyway, so he grits his teeth and obeys, sets his upper body armor in neat order next to his helmet. And this shouldn't be such a big deal to him - he's safer here than nearly anywhere else, his squad and Ahsoka are all here. But it isn't really about whether he's safe or not - it would be easier if it was. He just hates that people can see . But that shouldn't bother him so much, and Kix is going to be pissed if he keeps making an issue of this, so he sighs and tugs his shirt over his head, immediately sets about folding it up and setting it next to him on the bunk so he has something to do with his hands.

Kix sits down on his bunk and starts unwrapping Rex's bandages, muttering something about how they probably needed changing anyway. Rex keeps his focus on his own hands because his instincts are telling him his back is unprotected, he's going to get killed , and it takes some effort not to constantly check behind him. Then he feels Soka hum a little in his mind, and the bunk dips behind him and he twists his head around to see she's seated behind him so instead of empty space at his back, there's her. Thank you , he thinks. It's easier, then, to turn around again and drop his eyes back to his hands. It's not really okay , his scars burn and he doesn't want to have so many people seeing them, but he trusts Soka to have his six and it helps a little of the nervous feeling in his stomach subside.

...

Jak hadn't really intended to look at the adiik's bunk, but his argument with the medic had been loud enough to attract Jak's attention, and the moment the clone had pulled his shirt over his head, Jak hadn't been able to look away.

The jetii and the adiik had, it seems, been more than just slaves.

There's a ring of thick scar tissue around the adiik's neck, from a shock collar-Jak is intimately familiar with such contraptions and their effects on a body, and he remembers four days in a processing facility on Kadavo and he can't hide a shudder. Surprisingly enough, that's not the worst of the scars; the adiik's back is covered in ropey scars and thin red laceration lines and larger clumps of scar tissue. (Jak has a few matching scars on his own body, from the few times he'd ended up in Zygerrian auctions.)

There's also a pair of tattoos, names written out in Mando'a: Fives and Dogma. The names sound like clone names, call-signs really, and he shouldn't be curious about this, he'd trained curiosity out of himself while in chains, because curiosity kills, but…

But the adiik's scars are a hideous testament to the brutality the both of them have shared, and Jak, too, has a list of names he wishes he could ink on his skin. (There are too many names.) So he stands, cautiously, especially when he sees the jetii moving-but she's just settling in behind the adiik, watching his six, and Jak sees the young verd relax at his jetii's presence. (Cyare, she'd called him.)

He shouldn't do this.

He should be sitting the kriff down and keeping his mouth shut, like he'd ordered his verde to do.

But Jak is not always good at doing what he should, even after years of conditioning in chains, and so he curls his fingers into his palms and takes a careful breath and strides over to within a meter or so of the adiik's bunk, notices how his jetii watches warily, though her hands don't go to her jetii'kade, for which he is grateful-he's not sure he could keep himself from reacting to a threat from a jetii, intentional or not.

"Alor'ad," he says, getting the adiik's attention, "who are they? Your names."

Every soldier has names.

...

It takes Rex a moment to understand what Jak is asking him (and he doesn't really want to meet Jak's eye, even though Jak's scars are far worse than his), and when he does he isn't sure he wants to answer. Too much vulnerability here. Kix's hands still for a moment, and he wishes the medic would just hurry the kriff up so they'd all stop staring at him. He kriffing knows how he looks, knows he looks broken, and it's not a reminder he appreciates. The armor is better, helps him feel as strong as he knows he is (most times).

Ahsoka projects assurance, comfort, a thread of disagreement with his assessment of himself.

"Members of my squad," Rex says, tense. "The Chancellor killed them."

When he'd been a shiny, before the mission when he earned his jaig eyes, he'd thought he should get tattoos for his vod'e who died. He never did, learned too fast that there would quickly be too many names, and it was best to move on. But it had felt important to do something for Fives and Dogma, and so he'd asked Brii for just two more tattoos.

They're vod'e, my friends , he wants to say, but does not.

I don't want to do this, Soka , he thinks, and feels a soft wave of understanding. He doesn't like them looking, even if Jak probably understands and has the same scars, even if all his squad are grieving his vod'e too. He glances at Kix, and his friend gets the message because he goes back to work, unwinds the last few lengths of bandage (and it sticks which means he did kriffing reopen something, probably, kriff it hurts).

Kix gives him a look and peels the bandage free, and if Rex didn't know Kix better he'd say the medic seems perversely pleased when Rex bites out a pained curse.

When Rex looks back up at Jak (although he doesn't want to, he wants to pretend it's just him and Ahsoka and Kix here), the older warrior inclines his head just slightly, recites a phrase Rex has long been familiar with. " Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum ."

"Ni partayli, gar darasuum ," Rex repeats tiredly, nods back. Sometimes he thinks he's too good at remembering.

...

Ahsoka sits with Rex while Kix applies a new bacta patch, after swearing profusely about again, Captain, does no one appreciate how much **work** it takes me to keep you from dying? and rewrapping the bandage with fresh fabric-after using a bit of Force-healing on the reopened wound to close it, again. Jak leaves after the short, rather stilted conversation; Ahsoka can feel Rex's relief at that, and also his exhaustion. He's tired, and she is too (she has to admit it, though she doesn't want to), and she's pretty sure Kix knows.

Sure enough, the medic lets Rex pull his shirt on, but as soon as he reaches for his armor, Kix shakes his head. "You need to kriffing rest, Captain," and then he glares at Ahsoka. "You too, Commander, and I will sedate you if I have to."

Ahsoka pouts. "But I'm fine-"

"Commander."

Ahsoka swallows, looks away from the medic, mumbles, "I didn't even do anything," pretends she can't feel him boring a hole in her head with his gaze.

"I'm fine too," Rex says, which is utter bantha-shit, but Ahsoka can hardly reprimand him for doing the same thing she's doing-well, she can, but then Rex just gets pouty and sassy with her and she's too tired for that.

Kix's glare increases. "Go. The. Kriff. To. Sleep," he growls, and she nearly swears at the heavy layer of Force-suggestion behind his voice-she's not sure it's entirely accidental. Whether accidental or not, it works, and she struggles to block it out, feels her exhaustion reaching up to swamp her.

"That's cheating," she whines, sleepily, makes a face and leans heavily into Rex's shoulder.

...

Rex does not want to sleep - but it's very hard to remember that when Kix tells him to go to sleep, and he's pretty sure from Ahsoka's thoughts and very sudden lean into his shoulder that Kix is using the Force, which is not fair and which they will discuss later, probably.

Once he's had some rest.

It still doesn't feel quite right to just lay down here with so many unfamiliar people in the barracks, but his mind feels heavy and he wants sleep (very not fair), so he reminds himself to tell Kix "kriff you" later and pulls Soka close against his chest, fumbles for his folded up blanket and tugs it over both of them.

Love you, Soka , he barely remembers to say, and he vaguely feels her agree, reach up and run her fingers over the scars that curl over his shoulders.

Love you too .

...

Brii is curled up on his bunk, furiously sketching-he hadn't necessarily meant to draw the mando'ade, but Jak's scarred face and bright eye are so interesting and he hadn't been able to help himself.

He'd mostly ignored the aftermath of the fight, not wanting to think about it, knowing if he did he'd get angry enough to fight himself, and the Commander had said not to fight. Instead, he'd focused on his drawing, on shading and the exact right representation of Jak's awful scar and the paint on his armor.

And then a mando'ad comes over to him, her eyes curious, and says, "What are you doing?"

Brii flushes, scrambles to hide the sketchbook before she can see it (he remembers his sketches being ripped up and the way the mando'ade have been nothing but hostile), except that in his efforts he accidentally knocks the book onto the floor, and it lays there, open to the drawing of Jak.

The mando'ad bends down, picks it up, and Brii stammers out, "Please give that back," tries not to let his hands shake, can't quite manage it. That's his, he doesn't want the mando'ade seeing it. He doesn't want to hear their jeers.

And then the woman smiles, says, "You're really good at that, trooper-what's your name?"

Brii blinks up at her, says, "Uh, Brii? It's short for briikase," and he really shouldn't keep telling people that, but they always look at him funny when they only hear the shortened name and he's tired of it. "Who are you?"

"Elle Cadera," she says, smiles again. "You should show Jak this, he'd like it."

Brii's eyes go wide, because no kriffing way, Jak is even grumpier than the Captain, Jak calls the Captain adiik! Also everybody's saying Jak is the survivor of Galidraan and Brii is just a shiny. He shakes his head determinedly. Nope, no way, nayc, he's not gonna.

...

When Tup spots a mando'ad holding Brii's sketchbook, his automatic reaction is protective anger and he hurries over - but it seems he was worried for nothing, because he hears the warrior saying, "You should show Jak this, he'd like it."

Brii shakes his head, a little frantically, although he looks surprised, and Tup holds his hand out. "Hey, vod , you should give that back." After he'd taken Brii's sketches that one time to show Rex, Brii had taken him aside and asked him to not do that again. His sketches were too important to him.

The warrior turns, gives him a wary, appraising look, then passes him the sketchbook. "No harm done," she says, and Tup nods.

"I know." He hands the sketchbook back to Brii, who grins at him a little and almost immediately goes back to work.

Jak suddenly speaks from behind Tup, voice a frustrated growl. "Do I need to drag you two apart or are you being civil?"

Tup jumps a little. Someone in so much armor shouldn't be able to be so quiet . He realizes their commanders will be on edge for a while, watching for fights to break out, so he shrugs, glances at the mando'ad. "We're fine here, sir," he says.

Jak raises his one eyebrow at his warrior, who nods. "Good," Jak grunts, eye flicking to Brii.

Brii has gone very still and awkward on his bunk and closed his sketchbook, staring at Jak with that look he gets when he's both excited and intimidated. Tup kind of agrees with the mando'ad - Brii should show Jak the drawing. He doesn't know Jak, but he's been trying to convince Brii to share what he draws more often. His drawings that he's done for their battalion are treasured, Tup knows - he's been trying to get Brii to give Rex the drawing he did of the Captain because he thinks it would mean a lot to Rex. He thinks maybe Jak would react the same way. But Brii won't ever show it to him, probably, which Tup understands, he just wishes he could get Brii to see how much his vod'e all appreciate his gifts, tattoos and sketches alike.

Tup can't help a smile as Brii meets Jak's eye and slowly realizes the veteran soldier expects him to say something.

"Oh, yeah, sorry- Yeah, I'm great. It's fine." He fidgets with the edges of the pages of his sketchbook, and Jak's eye narrows.

"You sure, adiik? "

"Yeah," Brii says. "Really, sir, nobody did anything."

Jak grunts and seems satisfied with that, because he cuffs his warrior on the shoulder and turns to go.

...

Brii breathes out a sigh of relief when Jak turns away; the older warrior is cool and all, but he's also really terrifying and can lift a mando'ad in full beskar'gam off the floor with one hand. (Jak could rip his entire sketchbook in half with one tug.) He opens his sketchbook again, starts carefully adjusting the shading on Jak's eye, trying to properly capture the emotion in the mando'ad's eye. Somebody says something in Mando'a-Brii catches the tail end of the sentence, but he's too intensely focused on his drawing to pay attention-

At least, until Tup says, "He doesn't like people watching," and Brii's head snaps up, automatically shifting his upper body to cover his sketchbook.

There's someone standing in front of his bunk, at a perfect angle to see him drawing; Brii looks up-and up-and finds himself meeting Jak's sharp grey eye. He just stares for a moment, and then he bolts up to a sitting position, stammers out, "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean to-I'll throw it away-" and then Jak reaches out to the sketchbook and Brii yelps, "Don't touch that!" and scrambles to grab the precious book, hug it protectively to his chest. And then he cringes, because he's just given orders and he's just a shiny and- "Please, I mean, please don't touch it, I'm sorry-"

"K'uur, adiik," Jak says, and Brii snaps his mouth shut with a hard click. "Udesii. Why did you draw me?"

Brii cringes again, looks down at his book. "Uh, well, your scar is interesting, sir," and he knows he's flushed and breathing a bit fast, but he can't seem to slow his breaths down. "And-I've already drawn my whole battalion." Most of them, multiple times.

"Show me," Jak says carefully, and Brii looks back up, wide-eyed-the old warrior looks interested, and amused, and maybe even a bit impressed.

Brii darts a nervous glance at Tup, who smiles encouragingly. "Go ahead, ori'vod, you know everyone likes your drawings."

Brii looks down, mumbles, "The Captain doesn't."

"Yes, he does," Tup says, which isn't true, Rex had told Brii not to draw him. (He'd done it anyway, but…)

But Jak isn't going away, so Brii hesitates and then opens the sketchbook, flips through a few sketches: Tuck organizing rolls of bandages in the Resolute's medbay; Kix meditating in the middle of his bunk; General Skywalker throwing a bread roll across a table at the Commander; Kix and Jesse playing a game of dejarik; the drawing of the Commander stealing the Captain's mug of caf after Kamino; Dogma taking aim at a clanker. There's a sketch of Tup brushing his hair, another one of the Captain and the Commander not long after Kamino (Rex had been working on reports when Ahsoka had climbed into his lap with her blanket and gone to sleep, and Rex had fallen asleep with her, a small, soft smile on his face), one of the many caricatures of Fives, and then Brii turns one page too far and accidentally reveals two of the messy sketches of the images that haunt his nightmares.

The left page shows Tup convulsing as the Chancellor electrocutes him. The right page is the Chancellor again, but from the perspective of a person on the floor of the repulsorpod; Fives stands tall and proud in front of the Chancellor, staring down at the lightsaber embedded in his chest with shock and horror and confusion written across his face. Brii winces, flips the page quickly, lands on the picture of the Commander as she kills the Chancellor, his lightsaber still in her shoulder-the next page is her sobbing as she presses her hands to the Captain's cheeks as he lays there, still and small and pale. Brii mutters a curse, slams the sketchbook shut (too hard, the sound echoing in the quiet of the barracks), tries to avoid looking at Jak. Those sketches are ones he hasn't even shown to Tup.

He hadn't wanted anyone to know about them.

...

This adiik is too young to have seen so much, Jak thinks, looking at his bent head appraisingly. Most of these are too young for this, for that matter. The jetiise cannot fight their own war, so they make ade do it for them. This verd shouldn't be drawing his vod'e dying.

"They're good drawings, adiik ," he says gruffly. Not that he knows. "You should still draw the happy things too." No one needs a drawing of his face - he's certain no one who sees him forgets him. But if the adiik wants to draw him, fine. "You won't forget the names, even if you don't write them down."

He's one to talk.

The trooper nods, but doesn't open his sketchbook again, and Jak thinks he should leave the adiik alone, he seems uncomfortable at best. But before he can even move, the ad leans forward, still hugging his book to his chest, and blurts, "You remind me of the Captain, kind of." Jak raises his eyebrow, waits. "I mean you aren't really the same, but… you're both really strong and you protect your men and don't give up." Jak doesn't know how the ad decided all this was true of him. "You have the same eyes, actually," he adds, looking up and then quickly back down. "You just look older."

"I am older," Jak says, flat.

"And you're both grumpy ," the adiik adds, and then he winces and a red flush spreads over his whole face. Jak's lips twitch in the beginnings of an involuntary smile, but he controls it. " Kriff , I'm sorry, that was so rude, I didn't mean to say that, sir."

Jak holds up his hand because he's beginning to think this ad doesn't ever stop talking. The long-haired verd nearby smirks a little - Jak suspects this is normal . "What's your name, adiik? " he sighs, lets himself smile just enough, just the barest thing. He thinks if he doesn't, the trooper will be afraid of him.

"I'm Brii," the trooper says. "Short for- Well, it's just Brii." He's still very red.

His vod nods a little. "It's short for briikase ," he says, and Jak can't help a slightly wider smile. He's almost not surprised. This one draws the dying on one page of his sketchbook and fills the rest with his vod'e .

All the more reason he's too young for this war.

"Yeah," Brii says, sheepishly.

His vod turns to Elle, and Jak still isn't sure he trusts them to talk without fighting so he stays and fixes Elle with a glare so she knows he expects her to be civil . The long-haired trooper gestures at Brii almost conspiratorially and says, "If you need a tattoo, he's the one to ask. He's great at them."

This sort of thing has always interested Elle, so she nods, grins a little.

"The catch is, if you decide you don't need one, he might give you one anyway while you're sleeping."

"Hey!" Brii protests, leaning forward. "That was your idea, Tup."

Ade. Jak is surrounded by ade .

"You didn't have to take the bet," his vod , Tup apparently, answers. "You could have just said you wouldn't because Fives didn't want you to."

"Well that wouldn't have been fun ."

Fun. What a sentiment. But he sees Brii's face fall, and remembers that Fives is one of the Alor'ad's names. The adiik had probably done those tattoos himself. Jak shouldn't care. The Kyr'tsad is his family, but he has learned he can't risk caring about anyone besides them. He has no space for that.

And yet here he is.

...

Brii swallows, tries not to think about Fives, about Fives being dead, about Fives and the Chancellor's lightsaber and-he starts talking, all in a rush, trying to get the memories out. "Tup bet me I couldn't add colors to Fives' tattoo without him waking up, but he didn't say I couldn't have help," Brii explains to Elle, who looks more and more amused by this all. "So I had Tuck-that's Kix's assistant-well he's technically a senior medic now too, because the Temple medics wouldn't listen to him after Kamino, when Kix was hurt and so was the Commander and the medics wouldn't let the Captain stay with her and-" he's rambling, and Tup gives him a look that says shut up. He swallows. "Um. Anyway, so General Skywalker promoted Tuck so the medics would have to listen to him, it was pretty cool, but anyway-Tuck gave me a sedative for Fives in exchange for half the credits, so I won the bet."

Elle is laughing.

Brii isn't sure if she's laughing at his story or at the look on Jak's face-the older mando'ad looks thoroughly overwhelmed, and Brii grins sheepishly. "Sorry, everybody says I talk a lot."

"I hadn't noticed," Jak mutters under his breath, dryly, but there's a tiny smile hovering on the corners of his mouth and Brii takes that as a victory.

"Skywalker promoted your junior medic just so the Temple's staff would listen to him?" Elle asks, still grinning, though she's sobered a bit.

"Tuck deserved it," Tup says, shrugs a bit. "He did perform seven unfamiliar brain surgeries with unfamiliar equipment under… extreme duress." He pauses, and then adds, "The most important thing you have to know about fighting with this battalion is that the General just… does things sometimes, and usually he's breaking rules, or creatively interpreting orders," and Brii snorts because both the General and the Commander use that phrase all the time, "or just flat-out ignoring everyone and doing his own thing. Usually Kenobi goes along with him."

Brii grins. "I think General Kenobi goes along with General Skywalker just to keep the General from getting murdered," and then he winces, bites his lip hard, because he remembers execute order sixty-six and vod'e dying and Jedi dying and too much and Senators shooting to kill. (He tastes blood and forces his jaw to unclench.)

...

General Skywalker sounds irresponsible . Jak increasingly finds himself thinking he doesn't know what his Man'dalor has gotten him into. And Brii has gotten subdued again - Jak can't keep up with how fast his mood changes. Tup sits down on the bunk next to Brii, and Elle looks over at Jak like she expects him to have answers.

He shakes his head at her. He doesn't know anything more about these men than she does, except for what little their Alor'ad has told him. And he doesn't want to know more than he has to. This alliance is necessary to get rid of the dar'jetii, and that's all.

"Anyway," Tup says, glancing at Jak before looking back at Elle, "the point is, General Skywalker tends to improvise a lot and it seems best to just go along with it."

Jak doesn't say what he's thinking, that that's not practical in battle and in fact, it's probably dangerous. Why he'd expected anything different from a jetii is beyond him. (It's probably how much the clones seem to trust their jetiise , but all the same.) "We'll see," he says instead. He won't play along with the jetii's apparent impulsiveness, not unless he finds it's more calculated than Tup has made it sound.

The clones may trust their jetiise , but that's what they were made for. Jak isn't so easily persuaded anymore. He's learned not to put his trust anywhere until he's sure it won't be used against him.

...

The day after Kix finally takes Ahsoka's sling off, the Council assigns the 501st, the 212th, and the Death Watch their first mission: to retake Felucia. Master Aayla Secura had been heading the Felucia campaign with the 327th when Order Sixty-Six had been activated, and the majority of her battalion had died in the infighting that occured-the rest had been massacred by Separatist forces not long after. It's a fairly simple mission for the two best battalions in the GAR, nothing like the battle for Umbara had been, but Ahsoka thinks that's intentional; the Death Watch warriors are as of yet untested and nobody knows for sure if they'll actually stay loyal in a fight.

She goes with Rex-who's been cleared (extremely reluctantly) for battle as well, though Kix had threatened severe bodily pain as punishment if Rex reinjured his abdomen-to the barracks to give the orders and get the men on the Resolute. Bo-Katan, Anakin, and Obi-Wan are in the middle of reviewing intel about Felucia, making battle plans; usually, Ahsoka would join them, but she thinks with three generals already, the planning will be a bit… crowded.

Besides, she'd rather be with Rex anyway.

She keys in the code to the barracks, the door hissing open in front of her, and follows Rex in; things have been… calmer, since the first day, though the hothead mando'ad, Crys Rodarch, has continued making snippy comments. Not about Order Sixty-Six, at least: that's off-limits, and everyone's gotten the memo by now.

Jesse looks up when she and Rex enter, calls out, "Do we finally have a mission, Commander?"

Ahsoka grins, nods. "We're shipping out now, boys. The mission is to retake Felucia," and then she falls silent, lets Rex take the lead.

...

Rex crosses his arms over his chest and steps up next to Ahsoka, gives her a small smile. He can tell not all of the Death Watch want to listen to him, still, but he holds most of the warriors' full attention. He thinks they've all been itching for a fight.

"We're tag-teaming this with General Kenobi and the 212th," Rex says, sees his men nod approvingly. They all prefer missions with the 212th - partly because with Kenobi around, they don't have to worry so much about Anakin. This time he thinks they'll also feel better having another battalion around in case the Death Watch betrays them after all. "General Secura managed to secure a small outpost there and her men held onto it through Order 66; we're headed there so we have a secure base to attack from. The Separatist forces have a new airbase nearby, and our intelligence says it's their main center of operations, planetside. General Adi Gallia is organizing an airstrike on the outpost. It's our job to make sure it succeeds. The Generals will give us our orders once we get there, but that's the objective. If we knock out that airbase, the Seppies only have a few other outposts on Felucia. They'll be easy to take."

He sees Crys' lip curl in a familiar sneer, the one that usually precludes a mocking comment, and Rex sighs and raises an eyebrow, cutting off whatever he was about to say. "Be ready to ship out in half an hour."

His men leap into action with practiced efficiency, and he sees the Death Watch hesitating before a nod from Jak sends them to get their kit and weapons. The mando'ade are good warriors, but they are not soldiers - Rex knows his men could be ready in fifteen if he needed it, maybe less with more warning, but they've been training for that since they could stand. The Death Watch is more disorganized, if fast. Rex finds himself thinking they could use work , before reminding himself that he shouldn't really make it a goal to make terrorists into more effective soldiers. They're enough of a threat without his help.

It's a relief to finally settle back into the familiar battle-ready mindset, into stubborn calm and a bare minimum of worry. It's what's always enabled him to put losses behind and move on - he's never had to go this long after losing vod'e without fighting, and he's decided he hates it. Grief is too hard when it's all he has to focus on.

Now, though, he simply doesn't have space to think about his losses, and it's better that way. Easier. Even if he won't be at his best, with how much his healing stomach and back still hurt him. Kix has given him half-a-dozen rules he's supposed to stick to so he doesn't hurt himself worse, and Rex doesn't like them, but it's better than having to sit the battle out.

It's about time they let us back out on the field , he thinks to Soka, giving her a smirking grin.

...

Ahsoka returns the grin and the sentiment, watching the Death Watch warriors as they kit up. Most of them are disorganized, though fast-they don't have routines, procedures, haven't trained for this. There are exceptions: Jak (who only ever removes his upper body armor) is fully kitted up, with his helmet, jetpack, and modified Mandalorian blaster pistols ready to go in about two minutes; Elle Cadera, who is an absolute terror in hand-to-hand and who can shoot the antenna off a droid from a hundred meters (she'd proved that one morning when Artoo had rolled into the barracks, followed by his new trio of reprogrammed battle droids-apparently he'd pestered Anakin to replace the ones lost in the Citadel infiltration; she'd startled awake and shot the antennae off of all three droids before anyone could tell her to wait), is fully kitted in under five. The 501st veterans-Jesse, Tup, Kix, and some of the squadron leaders-are ready next.

Ahsoka's own squad, who've taken to calling themselves Domino in remembrance of Fives, is the first to be completely ready. Jesse, Kix, Tuck, Tup, and Brii are formed up, ready and waiting, before half the Death Watch are even kitted up.

Still, it only takes about fifteen minutes for everyone to get ready, and the battalion follows Ahsoka and Rex to the hangar, where Cody is already loading the 212th onto transports. He acknowledges their presence with a nod and a salute at Ahsoka, then turns back to his work.

Ahsoka turns to her battalion. "Squad up," she says, "onto the transports. I want a 501st veteran with every Death Watch squad."

"Get moving," Rex adds. "The Seppies aren't going to wait around on us!"

...

Rex has only fought on Felucia a few times before, and he decides that it is not a planet that improves with familiarity. It's nothing but humid, tangled, and burning hot, and even though they're better at fighting in the jungles than the Seppies' droids, every assault is a struggle.

He's been forbidden from marching at the front of the assault, and he hates that, hates letting Jak Ordo and Ahsoka and his General lead the way without him, but Kix is technically right, he needs to be careful of himself or he'll be stuck leading from behind for a lot longer. That doesn't make it any easier.

Their battalions are each split up into two smaller attack forces, each with some of the mando'ade with them, so they can come at the airbase from all sides. Rex is more or less relegated to providing cover fire while his force takes out anti-aircraft weaponry and, hopefully, break into the hangar itself. He crouches in the moist, foul-smelling earth with his men, waits for General Kenobi's signal to move; he can already hear Kenobi's forces attacking, distracting, the ever-familiar sounds of battle fading into a background hum.

Kix is waiting next to Ahsoka, his lightsaber held in his hand, thumb hovering over the switch. He glances back at Rex and narrows his eyes a little, and Rex gets the unspoken message to be careful . He'll try, at least, so he nods, claps a hand on Brii's shoulder and gives the kid a small smile. Brii is a good fighter but still a shiny, still new to campaigns like this.

"Don't try to be a hero, kid," he says quietly.

Brii nods, and Rex lets go, lifts both his DC-17s, and waits. The smell of the jungle is beginning to get to him, but it's at least better than the smell of blood and burned flesh and dying.

Anakin lifts his hand, crooks his fingers in a simple hand signal, and their force gets to their feet in near-silence, weapons at the ready. Then Anakin's wristcomm crackles, and General Kenobi says, "Any time you'd like to jump in is fine, Anakin ."

Four sabers burn bright against the jungle foliage, and Rex charges forward with his Jedi and his men, the heat and energy of battle already sending fire through his limbs, dulling the ever-present pain in his torso to a mere distraction.

He's missed this, and he lets a fierce smile spread across his face as he bursts into the sunlight, four neat, swift shots taking out four clankers. Come on, then .

...

The plan to take the airbase is fairly simple, as far as "Skywalker and Kenobi" plans go; Obi-Wan and the majority of the 212th, with about half the Death Watch forces, are attacking the main entrance as a diversion, to draw out as many of the droids as possible, while the majority of the 501st plus the rest of the Death Watch has split into large squads and targeted the antiaircraft guns dotted around the base's perimeter. Bo-Katan and a strike force of about thirty mando'ade, all with jetpacks, are infiltrating the base and blowing up the shield generator.

And then there's the last part of the plan, the part that'd been added on last-minute as they'd crept through the Felucian jungle. Their intel had the airbase as being exclusively staffed with droids, but life-scans and scouting reports confirmed the presence of an army of sentients. The airbase's hangar already contains multiple single-capacity starfighters, and if the fighters are allowed to get into the air, the entire campaign will be jeopardized.

Hence Ahsoka's assignment: take a small strike team inside the base and set charges around the hangar, destroying it before the ships within can be used. She relays her plan to Rex, mentally, half so he can point out any strategic errors, half so he'll know where she's going.

I'm coming with you, is his immediate response, and Ahsoka sighs, deflects a blaster bolt back at the clanker who'd shot it.

You're supposed to stay off the front line, she argues, because Kix will kill her if she lets him come, and also he's still injured and he needs to recover and the front line is a big risk already, not to mention a strike team.

You need me on your six, Rex says back.

I'll have the Death Watch and Brii with me.

I don't trust Death Watch, and Brii's a shiny. I'm coming with you.

She'd like to argue more with him, but he's already made his mind up, and she can't deny she'll be more comfortable with him on her six, so she projects grudging agreement and gestures to Brii and the four Death Watch warriors around her-Elle, Jak, and two others she doesn't know. The mando'ade have been educated on GAR hand signals, which makes communication easier, and they follow her as she breaks away from the main body of their attack force, runs for the base of the wall.

Rex meets them there.

"For the record," Ahsoka says, "when Kix yells at you for this, I tried to get you to stay back."

"You could've ordered me to," Rex says, projects dry amusement, and she rolls her eyes.

"Right, because you would've listened to an order," and she huffs out a sigh. "Brii, Rex, do you have ascension cables, or do I need to throw you?"

They have ascension cables.

"Great. On my mark," and Ahsoka falls silent, counts down with her fingers, and then signals, right before a Force-augmented jump has her soaring up onto the top of the wall. She flips, lands with her 'sabers out, clears the droids off with a few quick thrusts.

The sounds of battle drift up from below, and she winces as someone screams, as an armored body hits the moldy undergrowth and doesn't move again. Her men are dying, and should be down there, protecting them-

But too many more will die if the hangar isn't destroyed, so she takes a deep breath, nods at her team (Jak is still hovering in midair, firing down on the clankers with machinelike precision and incredible accuracy), jumps down off the wall, tucks and rolls back to her feet, gesturing with one hand. Are you sure you're okay for this? she asks Rex silently, letting him feel some of her worry.

...

Yes, I know what I'm doing , Rex says, more impatiently than he means to. Whether his injury will get in his way is actually doubtful, but he's sure nevertheless. His men have the assault just fine - but like he told Ahsoka, there are too many mando'ade in her strike team, and Brii is good but he's inexperienced. So he has to go.

(It never occurs to him to send Jesse or Kix or another vod .)

Still, jumping down from the wall hurts , and he clings to the basics of getting back to his feet as smoothly as he can, throwing himself back into a combat stance to shoot the few clankers and human pilots outside the hangar doors. Jak lands heavily next to him, raising his blaster and firing without wasting any movement, barely misses, doesn't even budge from his position unless he has to get out of the way of a blaster bolt. Rex should try to stand as still, for the sake of his healing injury, but it's not how he fights, and if he has to stand back and shoot then he's at least not going to be an easy target.

They've taken out what little resistance there is in a moment, and Rex and Jak signal for the strike team to form up around Ahsoka as she begins slicing through the hangar doors; they're thick, and she's slow, but Rex isn't concerned. The mando'ade are, as he expected, great warriors, if a little unorthodox. At this point, if something works, he doesn't really care whether it's traditional or not.

Most of the enemy are apparently either inside the hangar or out on the field, because they don't have many more guards to engage. When Rex sees Ahsoka's almost through the door, he sends (mostly without meaning to), You should let someone else go in first .

There will be resistance waiting for them and the hangar door will make a dangerous choke point; they don't have time to find another way in or Rex would suggest it.

He knows she won't let anyone else go first, but he had to try.

Like hells I will , she thinks, and Rex sighs and gestures for Elle and another mando'ad to push forward. "Grenades," he says, taking a grenade off his own belt. No use in letting their opponents make the rules.

"Way ahead of you," Elle says, and she is. Rex likes that about her.

Ahsoka pushes the piece of the door she carved free, and as it slams to the ground inside the hangar, Elle almost shoves past Ahsoka and launches three explosives; Rex and the other warrior quickly follow with their own.

Rex automatically grabs Ahsoka around the shoulders, hauls her back from the door to avoid the blast of heat and flame and debris, and quickly realizes that was a mistake and unnecessary - but it's done, and they have to press their advantage while they have it, so he lets go of Ahsoka and falls back behind her so she can lead. Elle is already holding two more grenades in one hand and a droid popper in the other, grinning, and Rex grins back at her - he definitely likes her.

...

Whoever's running the tactics for this outpost has apparently spent time studying Jedi tactics, especially the 501st, Ahsoka thinks-there's an entire small army crammed inside the hangar, around the starfighters, as though they'd known her team was coming, and they hadn't even known they were coming until a few minutes ago. The pilots are in their ships, guns aimed at the hangar doors (kriff), and there are multiple droidekas with their shield generators arrayed in a semicircle around the entrance, multiple squads of battle droids behind them, and she thinks she sees some commando droids (the nasty ones) in the shadows, waiting.

Kriff.

"Hukaat'kama!" Elle snaps out, and then she's moving, throwing her grenades over the droidekas at the battle droids behind, and-

"Fuel cells!" Ahsoka shouts, and Elle flips her a thumbs-up and tosses her second grenade at one of the fighters' fuel cells. The ship explodes outwards in a blossom of fire, takes out an entire squadron of battle droids with it, and Ahsoka grins.

Elle laughs, dodges a few blaster bolts, rolls her droid popper into one of the droidekas, and Ahsoka jumps forward too, gestures the rest of her team to follow, except, Rex, watch the door, and yes she's partially doing that to keep him out of trouble but also because they need to know if someone comes up and tries to trap them inside.

I'm not a protocol droid, he grumbles, make Brii do it.

Brii can't shout straight in my mind if we have company, Ahsoka says back, firmly, and that's the end of that as far as she's concerned.

Rex sulks, but he stays at the door-which is good, because the starfighter pilots start shooting at them, and she's suddenly having to flip and Force-jump across the hangar to try and deflect the bolts, and there are too many ships, and- "Brii! Get the fighters down!"

Brii snaps out a messy salute, pulls out a grenade in one hand, his blaster in the other, lobs the grenade into the fuel cells of the nearest fighter, shoots two battle droids advancing on him without even looking, and Ahsoka grins- this is why she'd brought him along. She drops a droid popper in the center of a mass of clankers, deflects a few shots away from Elle as the Mandalorian drops droid poppers in a couple more droidekas and shoots them, leaps onto another fighter and cuts through the cockpit, pulling the pilot out with the Force. Jak and the other two Death Watch warriors are doing something similar, using their jetpacks to cross between fighters quickly, and she nods approvingly, an idea entering her head at the sight.

She deactivates her 'sabers, jumps into the cockpit, spins the lasers around and targets the ship next to her, grins fiercely as it blows-

And then she sees, through the glass of the cockpit, Brii attempting to take down another fighter-and behind him, a tangle of commando droids, who leap out and surround him and she struggles out of the ship, grabs her 'sabers, but she's not going to get there in time and-

And from out of absolutely nowhere, a blur of blue-and-white streaks into the middle of the knot of droids, and in the time it takes Ahsoka to flip off the top of the ship and land by Brii, all but one of the commando droids are sparking piles of scrap on the ground. She cuts the last one in thirds, turns a little to stare at Jak Ordo, because kriffing hells.

"Watch yourself, ad," Jak says gruffly, and then his blasters are out again and he leaps back into the air, his jetpack igniting.

...

Brii forgets about trying to get his grenade into the fighter in favor of turning all his attention to the commando droids that have come out of kriffing nowhere - they swarm him, all at once, and they don't go down easily like normal droids and he doesn't know what to do because he can't shoot fast enough, and they're too close for him to use his grenade. One actually launches itself at him and he shoots three times, manages to blow its head off, but they're not stopping and he swears, looks around for Commander Tano or anyone, really- and he's not sure where he comes from, even, but suddenly Jak Ordo is there , grabbing a droid and yanking its head off in a shower of sparks, grabbing what's left of it and shoving it into several of the other droids. Jak moves like an avalanche; slow to begin but a disaster when he does, faster than Brii had ever expected, using his blaster as a bludgeon but nothing else. He doesn't smile while he fights like the Captain, he just… moves . Brii thinks he should lift his blaster again and join the fight but he doesn't even need to. Jak is all curled fists and brutal ease, using the scrapped droids he demolishes as weapons or just distractions until Brii almost blinks and there are nothing but sparking pieces left.

Jak grinds the heel of his boot into a sputtering droid's head and turns to Brii just as Commander Tano drops lightly to the ground next to them, her eyes wide. She swipes her saber out to her right without looking and Brii startles as one more commando droid falls to the ground in three pieces.

Woah.

Brii thinks he might be gaping at Jak and tells himself, firmly, to stop it. Jak's expression doesn't change, he just meets Brii's eyes and holds his gaze. "Watch yourself, ad ," he says, and Brii nods quickly, tightens his grip on his blaster as Jak takes off again like nothing happened.

Kriffing hells .

He glances at Commander Tano and finds she looks just as shocked still - but she seems to give herself a shake and smiles grimly at Brii. "What he said. Take care of that fighter, would you?"

Brii grins. He can do that. He tosses his grenade into the air, catches it, and takes off running for the fighter, having to run around scattered droid parts as he does.

Kriffing Jak Ordo is cool .

...

Elle Cadera has been called many things over her twenty-six years of life, some of them quite creative and colorful. The words reckless and insaneand kriffing Mandalorians have been repeated multiple times, and while apparently they're supposed to be insults, Elle takes great pride in her reckless Mandalorian insanity.

She might be insane, she muses, but she's not insane enough to comment about the scene she'd just witnessed-Jak abandoning a squadron of battle droids to launch himself across the hangar at a bunch of kriffing commando droids attacking the kid, Brii, short for briikase.

She's never seen him do that, in the ten years since she'd helped break him out of slavery. Jak Ordo has always made it perfectly clear that he can and will leave anyone behind to die if he must; if you get injured on a mission with him and can't keep up, you get left behind, simple as that. He won't risk the safety of the entire team for one person.

(Of course, she's also never actually seen him leave anyone behind, but that's because missions with Jak tend to be safer. He's more careful, doesn't take the risks their Mand'alor does, or some of the younger lieutenants, or, hells, even Elle herself. And he's also a kriffing murder machinein a fight, like seriously.)

Maybe that alone, him being aware enough of Brii to save the adiik's life, wouldn't be all that surprising, but Elle is still enjoying flying around and blowing fighters up, and she's close enough to hear Jak's parting words: watch yourself, ad.

Ad.

No kriffing way.

But Elle is definitely smart enough to not ask Jak about this particular… thing, and anyway there's still a hangar to blow up, and Kenobi's battalion to reinforce (Kenobi shouldn't even be fighting, she'd heard about the shot he'd taken, it should've killed him, but apparently he's gotten enough healing his medic, Scratch, couldn't force him to stay behind-Jak would be so irritated if he knew that), and she has to make sure her Mand'alor is still doing fine (though, honestly, Bo-Katan is probably doing better than they are, considering she's got thirty mando'ade with her), so she concentrates on the battle. She pulls out her blaster pistols, starts firing at the fuel cells on another ship-doesn't work quite as well as a grenade, and so she shoots a squadron of battle droids down, one-two-three-four and repeat, and holsters her blasters, pulls out her grenades again. (She'll have to get more after this, she's going to run out at this rate, which is a shame-one should never be out of grenades.)

Another ship blows, and that's definitely not one she'd been targeting, she's far too close to it, and she swears because the heat hits first, a wave of force pushing her off-balance, and then debris smacks into her side and she's tumbling out-of-control through the air. What the kriff, who did that? Elle twists in midair, but she can't get her wild spin under control, and she swears, prepares for a hard landing (this is gonna hurt), and then-

Someone slams into her side, hard, scoops her out of the air and lands in a controlled roll, and Elle sucks in a breath and looks up to see the jetiiCommander, Tano, vaulting after another collection of droids.

Where the kriff had she come from?

Elle shakes her head, toggles her in-helmet comm to the Republic frequency, says, "I'd appreciate not getting blown up, thanks." Or crashing, or almost having her jetpack compromised, which would also get her blown up, painfully.

If that was one of the two Kyr'tsad mando'ade who pulled that stunt, she's going to kill them later. (It's too bad, she thinks, that Crys Rodarch isn't here-she'd love an excuse to kill the di'kut.)

...

Brii could kick himself except he's already running to the next fighter, shooting its pilot through the open cockpit and then taking aim at the flight crew and a few droids. He's not really used to having to watch out for people flying around like kriffing birds while he's fighting. He really hopes Elle never figures out it's his fault she almost crashed; he wouldn't put it past her to poison his food or put fireworks in his bunk.

She's fun, but he thinks it's probably a lot more fun when she's pranking other people and not him.

The hangar has collapsed into smoky, burning chaos, and he's losing track of the fighters that are left, if any, and it gets easier to just focus on the barest essentials, on shooting droids and flinging grenades at fighters. It isn't long (or maybe it is and he doesn't notice) before a hand on his shoulder yanks him sharply back to a wider awareness and he winces, a little sheepish. It's the Captain, smiling at him a little. "Stand down, vod , we can take a breather. You did good."

The hangar is full of flames and Brii can't see any fighters left standing, which he thinks is probably good. Jak and Elle and Commander Tano and the others gather around them, and Brii grins at Elle, tries to pretend he didn't just almost blow her up.

She smiles back and he looks down fast because he's pretty sure he looks guilty and he does not want her mad at him.

"The Mand'alor is on track to get the shields down," Jak says gruffly, and Commander Tano nods.

"Good."

Brii looks up again and Elle is eyeing him with narrowed eyes like she's onto him. Kriff it. He grins (feels heat spreading over his face, damnit) and pretends to be listening very closely to Captain Rex, although actually he has no idea what they're talking about because Elle's eyes are glittering and he decides he should prepare himself for the very real possibility that she knows it was him who almost blew her up. Maybe if he offers to help her prank Jak (like he helped Commander Tano do to the Captain, once), she won't be mad.

But Elle makes a very deliberate slashing gesture across her throat with one finger, and kriff he wishes he were more subtle, but he gulps. "I didn't mean to!" he protests, and Elle looks surprised for a second before bursting into a laugh and Brii really should kick himself, dear kriffing hells.

The Captain still has his helmet on, but Brii knows the look he'll have on his face: unimpressed, an eyebrow raised like he's waiting for Brii to just shut up already. "Am I missing out on something funny in this situation?" he says dryly. "Or am I to assume the two of you have suddenly developed the ability to communicate telepathically? At least pretend you're listening, please?"

Brii doesn't think the Captain is one to talk; he and the Commander do this kind of thing a lot.

Granted, the Captain doesn't normally interrupt General Skywalker with it either, so…

"Sorry, Captain," he says, sheepishly, "I was just- I kind of almost blew her up, but I didn't mean to -" and Elle makes a crude gesture with her left hand that she keeps refusing to explain to Brii but that he thinks roughly equivocates to "kriff you and your mother."

"Joke's on you, I don't have a mother," he mutters, and the Captain sighs loudly.

"If you're done yet, I've been trying to say we need to get back out and support our attack forces. Assuming the two of you think it's worth your time."

Brii wants to grumble because the Captain isn't really being fair- but also, he's right. They're still in the middle of a battle.

Which means Elle can't kill him yet , right? She'll have to wait till after - Brii can convince her not to kill him between now and the end of the battle, probably. Maybe.

He might have to promise to give Jak a tattoo. Something rude in Mando'a, probably. He's not sure, he just doesn't want Elle to put fireworks in his bunk.

"Sorry, Captain," he says again, and Rex snorts, shrugs a little. Brii takes that to mean no harm done .

...

When his Mand'alor had suggested this alliance, Jak had not expected to be fighting with so many ade. No, Elle isn't helping matters, but the adiik,Brii, is certainly enough of a distraction on his own. Lack of focus.

(A part of him, long forgotten, finds it almost endearing.)

This adiik isn't cut to be a soldier, Jak thinks; he is too young and unfocused and… and that is the crux of this whole thing, this war, fought by adewearing his former Mand'alor's face. But he doesn't want to think about that right now, doesn't want the distraction, so he clears his throat and says, "We need to find the Mand'alor."

"She's attacking the shield generator," the jetii Commander says, and Jak fights back a growl. He knows that.

"I know," and it takes all his self-control not to snap the words. "Let's go."

He starts off before the jetii agrees, because he's going after his Mand'alor whether the jetii likes it or not. Luckily, Tano hums an agreement and follows him (he does not like having her behind him, where he cannot see her), and the rest of her team falls in behind.

They meet the Mand'alor as she and her warriors spill out from an exploding building-Jak finds himself almost impressed, although not exactly, because very little impresses him these days, but if he were to be impressed it would be by the sheer amount of fire. Fifty years old and he has yet to see durasteel burn quite this… intensely. Had he been younger, he might've asked her exactly what she uses to blow things up so well, but… he's no adiik. So he just inclines his head respectfully, waits for her to land.

The Mand'alor pulls her helmet off, grins at him, at the jetii behind him, at the Alor'ad, at kriffing Elle, and he sighs, because Bo-Katan is always in high spirits after blowing things up. He supposes it must be therapeutic for her. "Jak, Tano, Captain," she says, grins brighter, "ready to go kick some shebs?"

Inside his helmet, Jak raises his single eyebrow, singularly unamused. Every kriffing time. When he speaks, though, his voice is level and calm as always. "Lead the way, Mand'alor."

Bo-Katan jams her helmet on again, leaps back into the air, her warriors following behind her; Jak nearly joins her, but the Alor'ad and Tano and the adiik don't have jetpacks, and he's technically under Tano's command right now, so he stays grounded.

They run through the airbase towards the main gates, where Kenobi's forces are still engaging most of the aru'e, and Elle keeps kicking into the air and dropping grenades on buildings-which Jak should discipline her for, later, but she's the Mand'alor's third and Bo-Katan will reprimand Elle if she feels like it. (Jak doesn't think she will; Bo-Katan also loves explosions.)

He doesn't think the Alor'ad should be running this much, but he knows better than to think the verd will leave his jetii's side during a battle. Tano clearly thinks the same thing, because she casts the Alor'ad a worried look, presses her lips together, but doesn't say anything. (A part of him wonders how long it took her to learn not to ask.)

There's still an army of battle droids up ahead, and the Mand'alor signals her warriors forward, starts an aerial attack. Jak lifts his blasters, takes aim, fires, one-two-three-four and repeat, twist, one-two-three-four-repeat, every shot hitting its mark. Repeat, repeat, repeat. The jetii doesn't need his help, she is good with her jetii'kade, and the Alor'ad stays back like his baar'ur said to, and his warriors are in the air.

His ad is-not struggling, but unfocused. That will not do. Jak shoots, one-two-three-four, jogs over to his ad, says, "Focus."

"I am focusing," Brii grumbles churlishly, and Jak shakes his head, shoots a droideka before it can get its shield generator online.

"Talk less, shoot more."

His ad humphs, but raises his blaster, takes aim, and Jak nods approvingly (one-two-three-four-repeat). Smashes one blaster into a commando droid, holsters the other, grabs the droid's neck-joint and holds it still while he shoots it. Throws the droid into another, draws his blaster, one-two-three-four and "Down, ad," and one-two-three-four over his head.

Pivot.

Repeat.

...

The field in front of the outpost walls is just a press of bodies, white and blue and orange and grey armor, and Rex can't be totally isolated from it, can't keep out of a few scuffles, exchanged blows. He tries to obey Kix's orders, though, and stays back (except he hates that, it's not what he does, and Ahsoka is fighting where he can't quite get to her).

Still, Rex thinks they may be close to breaking the Seppies' line; with their forces hammering at them from both sides and their Jedi in the lead (Rex can see Kix through the struggling droids and he's still easily deflecting blaster bolts), he'd be concerned if they didn't get through soon.

He thinks Brii might be hyperfocusing again, so he pushes past a few mando'ade and settles behind Brii, holsters one DC to grab his arm. The kid startles, and Rex lets go. "You need to pull back and get a breather if you start doing that-" he shoots two droids and shoves Brii to one side so a bolt shrieks past him "-okay?"

"Yeah."

Rex draws his blaster pistol again and stays next to Brii - the kid is an intuitive fighter, Rex thinks, isn't afraid to get in close if he has to. Rex should probably get back behind the line where he can't get into a close-quarters fight with any of the droids, but he doesn't. He's fine here - he's closer to Ahsoka, and someone has to watch Brii's back. It might as well be him.

Rex grabs the arm of a battle droid that gets to close, yanks it off balance and shoots its head off, drops it. Another one in front of him raises its blaster, and Rex ducks under the shot, shoots its legs and then its blaster and head as it falls. There's a certain satisfaction in the ease of killing clankers.

(His stomach hurts but not badly enough that he needs to worry, so he stays.)

Rex, Kix told you to stay back!

He sighs and twists out of the way of a rapid series of shots. The soft earth is kriffing hard to get purchase in. Yes, cyare, I'm aware of that.

He feels a strong pulse of exasperation and worry, and he dismisses it. I told you, I know what I'm doing.

The wound hasn't reopened. They're just fighting clankers, he's not so worried about that happening.

Jak Ordo slams through a row of clankers over to Brii's side, like he's checking up on him, and Rex smiles a little behind his helmet. So Brii might have someone watching his back after all.

Rex shoots a droid over Jak's shoulder, takes a few steps back as a small group of droids rushes them and shoots, watches them crumple with a familiar clatter of metal.

Droids are easy.

Ahsoka certainly thinks so; he keeps checking on her even though he clearly doesn't need to - he doesn't think he'll ever tire of watching her fight, how easily she uses her sabers, like they're part of her, the flex and twist of her muscles when she jumps through the air, impales two droids on her sabers.

But he should pay more attention to his surroundings. He feels a hum of amusement from Ahsoka and curses privately. He should really shield some of those sorts of things, it's kriffing embarrassing when she notices.

He shoots a droid in the chest and decides to worry about that later.

...

Ahsoka huffs out a sigh, twisting through another series of maneuvers and decapitating a handful of clankers. Rex shouldn't be here, really, but he's too kriffing stubborn to go back. She can feel a hum of pain from him, and he's a bit unfocused, distracted, though battle droids are easy to fight; he's watching the way she moves, all grace and predatory certainty, and shooting clankers almost on autopilot, not even looking at them.

He's really distracted, she thinks, if he's paying more attention to her than to his surroundings. Enjoying the view? she asks lightly, trying to cover up a twinge of worry (he's hurting, he's in pain, she shouldn't have let him come on this kriffing mission), and she flips over the top of a squad of clankers, ignoring the squad leader's shout of hey, that's not fair- and slices them all in half in a fluid, easy series of movements.

As a matter of fact, I am, Rex responds in the same tone, and then he projects a bit of calm. Don't worry, I'm fine. I know what I'm doing.

If you reinjure yourself I'm going to kill you.

Get in line, he says lightly, easily, and she huffs a little, because that's not fair. But then there's no more droids in front of her-instead there's a knot of orange-painted troopers, snapping salutes at her. "Commander Tano," one of them says, a veteran she's interacted with on the battlefield a few times, "can you do us all a favor and go kick the General's ass into submission? He won't get off the karking battlefield."

Ahsoka sighs, because really, she shouldn't be surprised, it's Obi-Wan kriffing Kenobi, of course he won't. "Where is he?"

Another trooper, she thinks his name is Flicker, gestures vaguely in one direction. "Over there somewhere. Commander Cody's got him."

If Cody's there, at least Obi-Wan is somewhat safe, she thinks. Rex, get everyone out of the way and have Anakin call in the airstrike, I'm going to go check on Obi-Wan.

Yes, sir, he sends back, sarcastically, and she rolls her eyes.

Obi-Wan is a mess.

He's alive, and she doesn't think he's been injured any worse than he already was, but he's clearly exhausted and his face is almost grey and he's leaning heavily on Cody's shoulder. Which is not good, if he's letting Cody support that much of his weight he's really not feeling good at all. "Ahsoka," he says, smiles a little, though it's really more of a grimace, "good job on the hangar-"

"Sit down, Obi-Wan," Ahsoka says sharply, because kriffing seriously? "Master is calling in the airstrike now, and the vod'e can handle the rest of the clankers. They don't need you."

"I'm quite alright, Ahsoka."

Kriffing bantha-shit. "Three weeks ago you were still in a wheelchair," she snaps. This is ridiculous. At least she and Rex got cleared for this mission-Obi-Wan is only here because he'd gotten enough Force-healing that Scratch couldn't technically refuse him, and he'd been adamant that his battalion wasn't fighting without him. "I'll comm Kix-"

Obi-Wan cuts her off with a heavy sigh and hands raised in surrender. "No, thank you," he says wryly. "If I must be subjected to medical treatment, I'll do it of my own free will," and he offers her a dry smile. "I'm sure you understand."

She does. Kix has started to get fond of using his strong Force-suggestion on the patients he deems difficult, which always includes her, Rex, and Anakin. And any Jedi. "You need to have Scratch look at you, then," she says. He nods. She doesn't trust him.

"I'll take care of him, sirs," an unfamiliar 212th trooper says, saluting sharply first at Ahsoka, then at Cody. "Come on, General."

Obi-Wan makes a face, but he allows the trooper to drop his shoulder beneath his armpit, draping his arm around the trooper's shoulders. It's then that the distinctive ships of the 104th, now led by Master Gallia, soar overheard and fire upon the airbase.

Ahsoka grins.

Another successful raid.

* * *

 **Mando'a translations:** (you know the drill on some of them)

ge'hutuun(e): bandit, thief, petty criminal; here used as 'a serious criminal you have no respect for'

landuur: delicate, fragile; sometimes used as an insult

hut'uun: coward (worst possible insult)

ures'kot: without strength

Alor'ad: Captain

verd(e): soldier(s)

jetii'kad(e): lightsaber(s)

Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum: I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal. (daily remembrance of those who's died)

briikase: happy

k'uur: hush

ad(e): son(s)/daughter(s)/child(ren) (read as "child" when it's used as "this/the ad" and "son" when used possessively)

Hukaat'kama!: Watch my six!

shebs: backside, rear, ass

aru'e: enemy

baar'ur: medic


	5. Chapter 5

Rex twists his lamp so it shines a little more directly on his work, setting aside his tools to get a better look at the mechanism of his DC's trigger. The pistols are modified to have a faster, smoother firing action and almost no kick, but one of them isn't working quite right. Rex is pretty sure the problem is the trigger's connection to the firing mechanism, which means he's spent the last half hour carefully dismantling it so he can fix it. It's been a long time since he's had to work on the modifications because these are good blasters, not like those new, shoddy models. Phase Two standard-issue kit is mostly shit, in Rex's opinion. The Republic had had enough money for more clones, it seems, but not to keep them in decent gear.

He'd ranted to Ahsoka about it once. She didn't seem to get why he was so annoyed about Phase Two armor, if it worked , but Phase Two armor is cheap and it needs replacing too often and it doesn't keep its paint job as well.

Faint, dramatic sounds of blasterfire and a humming saber come from his bunk and he senses a familiar, delighted kind of amusement from Soka. "Are you watching that again? " he sighs, picking up a pair of tweezers and getting a few more pieces of the blaster's housing out of his way. There's a really horrible holodrama (all holodramas are kriffing stupid, but this one is especially so) Soka likes watching, about Anakin and what are apparently his very exciting exploits. Rex had tried watching it with her once, but he'd tired of it very quickly. No one looked anything like themselves and no one even talked like real people talk - Fives had loved the show and he had some lines from it he'd liked quoting to annoy Anakin. Rex swallows.

"Well, I don't have anything better to do until you come to bed," Soka grumbles at him, and he snorts, eyeing what appears to be the source of the problem in his blaster - a loose wire connected to a corroding plate.

"There are plenty of less stupid things you could be watching," he retorts. "That kriffing holo is junk."

"It's funny!" Ahsoka protests, and he doesn't have to look up from his work to know she's rolling her eyes at him.

He doesn't know why she thinks it's funny, why most of his men do, for that matter. It's ridiculous. "I'm judging you, Soka. Out of all the holos you had to pick to like, you picked that one?"

"Shut up, I know it's dumb," she grumbles.

"I'd be worried if you didn't," he hums, levers off the corroded piece of the blaster and drops it on his desk, staring at it. He doesn't think he has a replacement part for it, but he opens his drawer anyway and rifles through tools and parts and bandages trying to find it. No luck; it's too specialized of a piece to leave lying in his drawer, probably. Which means he won't be able to fix his blaster until he gets a new part; hopefully there's some on the Resolute. Kriff . "I can't do anymore work on this tonight," he sighs, organizing his tools and the dismantled pieces of the blaster so he doesn't lose track of any of it and flipping off his lamp. "Turn that kriffing crap off and I'll join you."

He rolls his shoulders and tilts his head from side to side so his neck cracks, sees Ahsoka make an annoyed face at him but very deliberately shut off the datapad. "It was a good episode," she complains as he gets up, pushes his chair up against the desk. "The one where Anakin saves the Senate Chambers from being blown up by a crazy Twi'lek whose mother got killed in a speeder crash with Senator Organa."

Rex groans and marches over to the bed, tugs the datapad out of her hands. "What about that was supposed to sound good , cyar'ika? "

...

Ahsoka pouts, makes a face at him. "Killjoy," she mumbles, but it's really kriffing hard to stay sulky when he crawls into the bunk with her and wraps his arms around her, tugging her head to nestle against his chest. "It had Padme in it."

Rex rests his chin between her montrals, hums a little. "Sounds embarrassing."

She scoffs. "Padme likes to make fun of Hero With No Fear with me, too." It drives Anakin crazy. "Oh, I should show Elle, I bet she'd like all the explosions."

"Ner'jetii, you're blue," he says patiently, and she can't help laughing.

At least they cast a Togruta and not a Twi'lek to play me, she thinks, feels his begrudging agreement. How are you feeling?

Rex shifts, runs his fingers in small circles over her back headtail, and she hums in pleasure, closing her eyes and leaning into the touch. I'm fine. Kix isn't-I think he almost had a heart attack.

Well, she says, pulling back just enough to give him a mischievous look, he **did** tell you to stay off the front lines, and then you went and joined a strike team anyway.

So kriffing Jak and Brii could go with you, but not me.

Which is not the same. At all. She rolls her eyes, says, Neither of them almost died two months ago, which Rex responds to with an annoyed hmphand a cessation in the rhythm of his fingers. She projects general displeasure with that fact, tilts her head back into his hand meaningfully. Speaking of Jak, did you see him take out those commando droids in the hangar?

Rex rolls his eyes, starts moving his fingers again. Yeah, I did. Kriffing hells.

And **you** called him di'kut, she thinks smugly, smirks up at him.

"One kriffing time," he growls out, pulls his arm from around her and tucks it under his head. Maybe I'll just go back to the barracks if that's how you're going to be.

Ahsoka glares, because that is not fair. "Rex," she whines, reaching for his arm-he moves it out of her reach and she pouts. "Come on, Rexter." He raises an eyebrow at her, golden eyes glimmering with amusement, and she huffs. "Fine, I'm sorry."

No, you're not, he hums, laughing silently, but he slips his arm back around her and tugs her close again; she settles comfortably against him, hooks one leg around one of his and just breathes.

I love you, she tells him, projects warmth and love at him.

I love you too, ner'jetii.

...

His instincts are telling him something is wrong . There's an unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach that just won't go away, even though he's scanned the mess some dozen times and found nothing amiss. Ahsoka is sitting next to him with a cup of caf and she hasn't noticed anything, doesn't even seem anxious , which means the Force must say everything's fine.

Still, Rex doesn't feel right .

The uneasy feeling just increases when Fives and Dogma come over and sit across from them, set their helmets on the table. "Hey, vod ," Fives says, and Rex shivers a little. Not right, not right, not right .

He cannot answer. He tries, but no sound comes out, nothing - not even breath, not even air. He drops a hand to his chest, struggling, because suddenly he needs to speak but his stomach burns and he can't breathe .

Everything goes so black , around the edges of his vision and slicking like oil over the floor. It's because he can't breathe, because he's choking and dying, and he scrambles at nothing, trying desperately for breath - feels something slimy and cloying seeping into his boots, clinging between his fingers and across his palms so he feels sick. Ahsoka is gone, Fives and Dogma are gone, and he slips in the dark, tries to stride forward, call their names, look for them, but it's nothing but dark and moist and cloying, choking.

I hope you can live with yourself.

In the dark, he hears the sounds of battle and he runs towards them, automatically, although the stinking liquid has crept up over his knees, soaked through his blacks ( where is his armor? ), until suddenly he bursts into a space that's lit glowing red and pale, still dark , and the ground is firmer, but still a wet, mouldy mess like the Felucian jungle.

They're standing there, arms pulled behind them, Fives and Dogma, and the slimy black creeps up their legs and chests and arms, holding them still. Holding them still except for the agony on their faces and the trembling of their limbs as blaster bolts drive relentless into their chests in a sudden burst of blue light. But the dark doesn't let them fall, and although they're choking they're alive, so Rex runs to them, tries to shout for Kix but once again he's strangling, can't make any sound come out, but at least he's almost close enough to grab them, yank them free from the dark, and-

A hand curls around his throat, another around his arm, and he's yanked to a halt, coughs and struggles, but fingers trace sickly-light over his cheek and crushing arms wrap around his waist, his ankle, and he should be able to break free but there's no give to their grip and the fingers around his throat and jaw dig into his skin, hold him staring at his vod'e as they shudder, heaving for breath, Dogma crying , and he would be sick except the fingers around his neck don't let him.

Please, please, no, oh kriff .

"This is what will happen to all of them, in the end, child," and the voice is so fatherly and understanding but it's also one he knows , one he'd thought was gone , and he heaves out a strangled, near-silent sob as the hand around his throat loosens just a fraction.

Fives' eyes fall closed and he goes limp, the blackness around him slithering away as he collapses boneless to the ground; Dogma heaves a few more breaths and then his eyes roll back in his head, the dark retreating from him too, and Rex shouts and struggles until the grip of the hands and arms slips away and he doubles over, retches, chokes on the acrid scent of sick and burned flesh, and runs . Grabs Fives' head and drags it onto his lap, fumbles for a pulse, something, his other hand latching onto Dogma's bracer and holding so tight the molded plastoid groans.

He couldn't help them, he tried, and they're lost and he's failed them and how many more , how often will he have to find himself here alone in the dark clinging for them to come back when they never will, when it's always just going to be him that's left? No more of them, please .

All of them, in the end .

...

Ahsoka's jerked out of a sound sleep by raw pain.

For a moment, she thinks maybe she's injured something, or Rex has reopened his stomach-that's how much it hurts, white-hot and burning and empty, and it takes too long to realize it's all in her head.

Except it's not her head.

She uncurls from where she'd fallen asleep, head on Rex's chest, montrals pressed to his chest just over his heart, balancing herself on one elbow as she looks down at him. His face is creased with pain and grief, loss and a heavy, hopeless despair thick and choking even through his shields, and she swallows. Reaches for his mind, because she knows better than to try and shake his shoulder-she doesn't want to end up in a headlock on the floor or something like that. His pain is sharp and bloody and desperate, cutting into her like shattered glass in her palms, and there's a heavy darkness lying thick and cold and cruel over his thoughts, stifling him.

She projects light and love and warmth, tries to soothe him awake gently, slowly-he's screaming somewhere under all the cotton-muffled black, where she can barely hear him, barely feel him. It takes a moment before he feels her, and when he does he startles, grabs on tight and holds for a moment, and she drags him out of the awful cloying darkness and into the light.

He snaps awake, sharp and jerky, bolting upright (and it's only her quick reflexes and instincts that get her out of the way); he's panting in short gasps, eyes wide and unfocused, and clutched tight in his right fist is his vibroblade. For a moment, she thinks he might try and attack her, disoriented and unsure of his surroundings, and she reaches quickly for him again, tries to soothe him. Easy, Rex, cyare, it's just me, and then he freezes like ice has settled around his veins, his bones, cold and crystalline and yet brittle, ready to shatter with one wrong motion.

Ahsoka reaches out with one hand, tentative, because she really wants him to drop the vibroblade before he accidentally stabs something with it. He's tenser than she's ever felt when she lightly lays her hand on his shoulder, every muscle locked like he's about to flee, or to fight, and when her hand touches him he flinches, jerks away almost instinctively and twists the hand with the vibroblade towards her like he's going to fight, and it's instinct to pull on the Force and say, "Calm down, Rex, it's just me, it's Soka, please?"

...

Rex wants to be sick, still, and the dark room is too small and for a moment he thinks he still smells death and wet earth, and his instinct says don't let your guard down . But Ahsoka is still holding her hand out to him, like she wants to touch him again but is afraid to, and she'd touched his shoulder so she's actually here , and when she tells him to calm down, some of the tightness bleeds out of his muscles, leaving him shaky. He twists the vibroblade so the tip points at him, sets it carefully next to him on the bunk and takes a deep, fortifying breath. "Sorry," he says, wishes he sounded less exhausted. He pushes the blankets away from his legs because he still feels something slimy and choking on his skin. It's easier to keep his breaths short, shallow, controlled; to choke back nausea and grief that both rise hot in the back of his throat.

"It's okay," she says, settles her hand on his shoulder. She's going to ask him what happened and Rex just wants to lay back down, go back to sleep before he can't- can't keep it locked up like this. His throat burns and he swallows reflexively, nods. She scoots a little closer to him and Rex tries for at least half a smile. It doesn't work . "Do you want to talk about it?" she asks, softly, and that makes his throat tighten, something approaching a laugh trying to struggle free; he suppresses it.

"No. Thank you though."

Fives stares at him from behind Ahsoka like he's disappointed, lost, and Rex rubs his eyes and swallows again. The warm darkness of the room (which at least smells clean now) presses on him more than normal, keeps him trapped with the grief. Looking at Ahsoka helps, except it makes everything raging under his skin want to break through, and he won't let it, not tonight.

(He keeps saying there will be time later, and there will. Now is not the time to think about it.)

...

Ahsoka doesn't believe Rex one bit.

He's staring at her like she's the only steady thing in the room, like the world is whirling a dizzying dance around the two of them, and she's the unconscious centerpoint, but even as she watches he takes a ragged breath, squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again. The golden irises are jagged-edged, cracked with grief and horror, and she drops her hand from his shoulder, slides her palm lightly down his arm to tangle her fingers with his. His other hand is still a tight fist, and she reaches, gently soothes it open, rubs her thumb in soft circles over his knuckles. He clings to her like a lifeline in a storm, and she reaches for his mind, lightly nudges at his shields.

For a moment, he almost gives, but then she feels him tense again, and she frowns, because this isn't good, isn't healthy- but his strict control over his emotions, over his pain, is failing and so she prods at the cracks. Let it go, cyare, you need to let it out.

He shakes his head, pulls back from the bond some, but the cracks are spreading faster now and she lets go of his hands to tug him against her, one hand bringing his head to rest against her shoulder. He lets out a soft breath and crumples into her, like the strength has just drained out of his veins, like a puppet with its strings cut, and she carefully, softly reaches for his mind again. Please, Rex?

...

Rex does not want to think , he wants to sleep and work on his blasters and clean his kit and not do this . Ahsoka curls her hand over the back of his neck, holds him close, and she won't stop pushing . He doesn't have the energy to be angry, can't focus well enough to hold his shields up, but it feels like a durasteel grip has locked around his throat again, choking back sound and words.

They choke and struggle in front of him, and he can't get to them, it's not **enough,** and they both fall so easily .

So they're dead. Rex knows that. He's lost enough, it's hard, but he keeps going because it's war. He remembers enough, he's grieved enough, and that will serve. He doesn't need to wallow in all of it, he doesn't have space for self-pity.

Fives still stares at him over Ahsoka's shoulder, confused and alone.

Rex's chest aches and he fits his arms around her waist, presses his face into the curve of her shoulder and just tries to breathe. He just has to forget the nightmare and control his breathing and then he can convince her, can go back to sleep, he… he is tired .

Tired and drowning and his head is full of images and black oil and they're still gone and they're going to be gone, and he doesn't mean to but he twists his hand tight in Ahsoka's sleep shirt, tries to ignore her needling at his shields, breathes out shakily.

He's so tired of losing them, of all the training and the modifications and the fighting not being enough , of being the unkillable clone, the one left when all the fighting is done. Tired of pretending he has any idea what this all means anymore, because he doesn't, he doesn't know . Fives and Dogma are… dead, they're dead, for no reason , and they shouldn't be.

He doesn't want them to be, he wants them back, he wants Dogma to try, mildly, to scold him for ignoring a minor reg, he wants Fives to laugh at him for his blunder with Jak Ordo. He wants them. They're his vod'e , they're not supposed to-

And it chokes him, how much it hurts, how it makes his eyes burn and his chest tighten, because nothing has helped. Not the tattoos or the attempts at remembrance or pretending he doesn't have time . They're still gone and it still means nothing and he doesn't want it that way. It's true his vod'e were made to die and it's true they're at war but that doesn't kriffing change anything.

He still just wants them to come back .

He doesn't have excuses left for why it's fine , because it kriffing isn't - he's been fighting since he could walk, watching his vod'e die since his first real battle, pushing and pushing and killing and talking about duty and he remembers Fives asking him, "Do you really believe that? Or is that what they engineered you to think?" and he hardly knows .

Somehow he's always convinced himself he hasn't lost so much, has called it a fair price, but it's not . It's not kriffing fair that his brothers are always the ones who fall first and oftenest and it's not right and it has hurt him every time but there was no more space to remember them all than there was to list all the names on his skin.

He senses Ahsoka still wants him to talk but it feels like there's nothing to say. He's just heavy and exhausted. I'm just… He tries for something, because he knows better than to just be silent, but it all feels thick and stifled and worn out. I wish they weren't gone .

...

Me too, Ahsoka hums, leans her head against the top of his, and with her free hand she finds the hand he's got twisted into her shirt and threads her fingers through his, squeezing. He clutches her hand, clings to her, and she swallows hard. Projects gentle love and soothing warmth and understanding and hopes that helps, hopes that does something, because he just feels tired and weary and worn, faded, like some of Obi-Wan's older robes.

He doesn't say anything, and she can feel he doesn't really think there's anything to say; some of his shields have fallen beneath her persistent prying, and she tries to help dispel some of the dark, the cold, the ice. It doesn't really work, and she closes her eyes and sucks in a sharp breath because she doesn't know what to do but she can feel he needs something and all his heaviness is weighing down on her like mountains, making it hard to breathe. Me too, Rexter.

She misses Fives and Dogma, even more than the rest of her men that'd died during the Senate disaster; they're her squad, she's fought with them for years and it hurts that they're gone. It hurts that Dogma isn't here to gently chide her for ignoring Kix or breaking regs (not that she really hasto listen to regs anymore, he'd still reprimanded her for it), that Fives isn't here to make bets and watch the stupid kriffing Hero With No Fear holos and annoy the kriff out of Anakin and complain about her and Rex's timing always being atrocious.

(A part of her suddenly remembers, hey, if I make a bet with Fives about when you guys will say the vows for real, will you tell me so I can win? and she can't quite shield the flash of sorrow at the realization that Fives won't be there, he won't complain about how their timing is atrocious as usual and how he's losing the bet to kriffing Kix and Tup.)

...

Rex hardly feels able to pay attention to Ahsoka's thoughts, but he still catches the drift of them, how she feels a sudden spike of loss and he gets an impression of an empty space where someone should be standing, of things that will never get to be said, and it sends a spike of pain through his thoughts, twists his stomach tight into a knot. He holds tighter to her hand and struggles through the heaviness enough to send her a soft thread of understanding, at least.

Too many lost moments. He's had enough.

He sighs, traces his fingers over her headtail and leans in, kisses her. (She feels confused, and unhappy, but he can't summon the energy to care .) "I just need rest," he says, quietly, because maybe if he goes to sleep it'll all make more sense when he wakes up. He untangles his fingers from hers, barely notices her mental protests, lies down with his back to her, facing the room, and slides his shaking hand under the pillow. He's too tired, he can't deal with this, so he reaches clumsily for the blankets again and tugs them over himself, projects a plea for Ahsoka to just lay down. He's trembling and he doesn't know if the tension will go away enough for him to sleep but he needs to, needs to just get away .

Ahsoka takes a moment, but then he feels her settle behind him, slip her arm around his chest and press her face into the back of his neck.

He shivers and curls up a little, clenching his fingers in the blanket. It's too hard to relax but he tries anyway, forces his breaths to slow, although deep breaths are a struggle, like something's pressing on him. There's a tension in his thoughts, too, that he thinks is from trying to hold up shields that aren't there. He just needs sleep. He lifts one hand to Ahsoka's arm around him, takes her hand, breathes.

He lets go of his shields, stops trying to rebuild them or maintain them, feels some of the wary tightness bleed out of him and he sinks into the mattress, pulls the blanket tighter around himself and feels the softness of the bunk and his pillow, and Ahsoka is behind him and he's safe, so finally the tension coiled around his lungs eases, cracks, lets go.

Rex can breathe .

And the grief is soft, too, when it comes, and he's too tired to fight the tears that cloud his vision, can't find the strength to stifle the silent sob that shakes out of him. More follow, thick and fast, and they're just as quiet, hurt his chest, and he just feels weak and exhausted and it's too much effort to hold Ahsoka's hand, but she keeps a hold of his fingers when his own loosen.

He sinks further into the mattress, wishes he could stop himself shaking.

...

Ahsoka almost doesn't realize when Rex first starts crying; she's never seen him cry before, and his sobs are just… silent, shaking his shoulders almost like he's laughing, and he hides his face in the pillow a bit, his grip on her hand slackening. She swallows hard, tightens her hold on his fingers, presses closer to him.

She's not sure exactly what to do, what to say, so she doesn't say anything; she just curls up around him, traces patterns on the back of his hand, hums tunelessly and projects a constant, steady stream of love and calm and nonsense phrases. It's okay, I'm here, we're safe, she thinks, knows the words don't really mean anything, but she thinks her voice is more important than what she's actually saying. I love you, Rex, I'm right here, I've got you, cyare.

He curls up on himself, makes himself smaller, and she tightens her arms around him, presses her face against the back of his neck like if she just willed it more she could share his skin-but she doesn't think it's possible for her to get any closer than she already is, and so she just breathes out, quiet and careful, feels a couple tears slip down her own cheeks, because he hurts and she just wants to make him feel better and she doesn't know what to do.

It'll be okay, Rex, I promise.

...

Rex tries, he really tries, to hang onto her talking, and it helps a little, but he's spent so long dreading this, dreading the moment he had to feel , that now that it's here he can't do anything else . He focuses on the feel of his hand in hers and the reassuring projections between flashes of Fives' agonized eyes and the sound of Dogma's body hitting the floor and the inevitability of loss, of the injustice of it.

At some point he decides leaving his back to her only makes it worse so he shifts, rolls to his other side and fits both arms around Soka, curls around her and clings too tight. He has to just weather this, has to just get through it, have done with it, go to sleep.

He's not sure he can. Loss grips like a vise now that he's let it out, despair, the knowledge that he can't do this . No more of these losses, no more of this . Ahsoka cups her hand over his cheek and presses closer against his thoughts, too, projecting love, and he has enough sense to hang onto that. It helps him not feel so much like the darkness is smothering, like he's going to be left alone at the end of all of it, like it's all kriffing pointless .

Soka , he thinks, kisses her montrals, tucks her tighter to his chest because that helps a little too.

Just weather it, just have done with it, just kriffing let it go. The sobs shake him enough now that it hurts his wound, but he doesn't try to stifle them.

(Some part of him thinks his vod'e have long deserved this from him, real grief, but he doesn't know what he believes.)

...

You won't be alone, Ahsoka promises, soft and certain, the Force ringing true with the strength of her conviction. I'm never leaving you, Rex. I promise. That's not enough, and she knows it, but at least it's something, and she keeps talking, telling him she's sorry, meaningless promises she can't ever hope to keep, whispering words as a way out, a light to lead him home through the darkness. He clings to her, his shields falling one by one as he finally lets his grief out, and she curls into him, savors his closeness.

She has no idea how long it is before his sobs finally begin to subside, before she senses his exhaustion finally overcoming his grief, but she thinks finally it might be alright to try and talk. It wasn't your fault, Rex.

I'm their Captain, he tells her, soft and low and heavy with guilty sorrow. I'm supposed to protect them.

She understands what he feels-it's hard not to blame herself for every trooper in 501st blue that falls under her command. But sometimes we **can't,** Rex, and that's okay. It has to be.

...

Why though? Rex finds anger somewhere in his exhaustion and lets it burn a little, although it's weak. It shouldn't have to be okay, Soka, I shouldn't have to watch so many of them die. Someone has to fight this war, he knows that, but that doesn't make it better or right. He's always been the trooper he's supposed to be, always said they have to do their duty . How often has he just led his men into more death because it's what they haveto do?

I know , she thinks, and he senses she does. But it's how it has to be until the war is over . Which he knows, but it makes him feel sick and he hates it.

I don't want it to be like this anymore, he says wearily. Always reconciling himself to losing something so that he doesn't hurt so much when he does, except it always burns and he can't accept anymore of it. Even when everything has been happiest, there's been grief and dread waiting to come back, to remind him there is always more to lose. I'm so tired.

...

I know, and that's the worst part, Ahsoka thinks: she does know. And while there's a part of her that loves the battle, that craves the adrenaline rush of a fight, the way the world narrows to herself and her 'sabers and the Force and a fierce joy surging through her veins, as much as the clones do (some things are too inherently Mandalorian to be edited out of their DNA), that part has been growing smaller and smaller lately. With every victory there just comes more loss, and in defeat that just grows heavier, harder.

Just a couple standard weeks ago, the HoloNet had exploded after a video had been uploaded directly from the HUD of a clone trooper so shiny he didn't even have a name, just went by '47. The video had, in shaking high-res, recorded the destruction of an entire battalion in just under five Standard minutes-after the revelation of some kind of new Seppie tech-and had caught on camera the death of its two Jedi Generals, Masters Tiplee and Tiplar. The last words '47 had said were tell the Jedi Council we've failed- and then the screen had gone black, the audio cutting out.

An entire battalion.

Two Jedi Masters.

Under five minutes.

And for what? For a Republic that is as corrupt as it once was just? For a cause she can't even remember, one that was propogated by the Sith?Ahsoka swallows, curling close to Rex's mind. I want the war to be over too. I want to go **home.** (Except she's not really sure where home is,anymore.)

She picks up on a stray thought from Rex, about how the vod'e don't have a home to go back to, how they weren't really meant to survive the war; his thoughts are conflicted and torn up. He wants the war to be over, but he doesn't know what will happen after, to him and to his men.

That's what we'll do, then, she promises. We'll find a planet and call it Yaim and bring our vod'e home, and we'll make the Senate accept you, and the Jedi will help, because they owe you.

...

It's a nice thought, a soft enough one that Rex latches onto it and projects agreement, even though part of him insists, harshly, that it won't be that simple. He remembers the dreams he'd clung to on Kadavo and tentatively pushes them against Ahsoka's mind, vague images that he's slowly made more concrete since then, in the rare moments when he lets himself have hope for after . There's a house, a small one, with a sturdy door and a few big windows, there's cups of caf in the morning and knowing his vod'e are working nearby, having good work to do himself, there's a kind of peace and learning to tolerate all the weird things civvies are supposed to do. Everything is soft, Ahsoka plants flowers, he keeps his blasters clean and close but doesn't need them, she does saber forms outside in the sunlight but not because she has to.

They are not dreams he allows himself to think about, because then it starts to hurt, then the war feels too long, but now it already all feels heavy and it feels right to show her. I'd like that , he says, knows he still sounds despairing, but he doesn't try to change that. He's too tired. He starts running his hand up and down the length of her spine, the rhythmic motions soothing, pushing him into at least a more steady pattern of thought, if not exactly a calmer one.

...

Ahsoka can't help a wistful smile at Rex's dream, something soft and warm lodging itself like a stone in her throat, making it hard to breathe right. She catches a fleeting memory, of a clone deserter and a Twi'lek woman and children with tiny lekku running around, and she smiles, hums a little, soft and soothing. To his dream images she adds the hum of training 'sabers, the soft sounds of children playing, thinks for the ones who don't want to be Jedi. To show them there's an option besides Sith. Rex projects a tentative agreement, wonder, love, always love, curls closer to her.

In the dream, she steals his caf and laughs and tells him she's going to help Tup and Kix and Brii work on the memorial today, and somehow she knows the memorial is a building almost like a museum that holds something for every lost vod and Jedi, something from every battle (an old clanker head that sometimes turns on from Geonosis, one of those weird glowy plants from Umbara, a handful of dark dirt from Felucia), and this has the ring of absolute truth to it, the feel of the future, a shrine to all the lost, memories bound in durasteel. Ni partayli, gar darasuum. (They will remember, and their children, and their children's children, that all the fallen of the Clone Wars will live on, that the galaxy might never forget.)

And tonight is a night for sharing, she thinks, for secret dreams and wishes one hardly dares to even think, and so she shows Rex the desire she's kept tightly clutched to her heart, afraid that he'd be scared away if he knew: a little girl with light orange skin and barely-there montrals, stubby headtails bouncing on her shoulders as she beams up with laughing golden eyes, stretching her arms up and saying laam, buir, laam!

...

There's one more line of the Mandalorian marriage vows, one Rex has always left out, one he thinks promises a future he and his vod'e just don't look towards. Mhi ba'juri verde . We will raise warriors .

There's so much life in the dream Soka's sharing with him, so much newness , and he finds he wants it although he's never really considered it before, somehow. He sighs and projects gratefulness that she showed him, hesitant agreement that he thinks that would be… right .

Part of him says what if it never happens , still deeper is the fear that he could still lose her because he knows there is no promise of tomorrow for them, not until there's no more fighting, and he remembers the dark coming and the sound of battle and Ahsoka not being next to him anymore and it's hard . He shouldn't dwell on it but tonight he doesn't have enough control not to. That's why he's dreaming, because if he imagines a future it helps him stop thinking he won't have one .

He just wants to stop losing so much, he wants to feel like someday he'll actually have her and his men and his General and peace (even if he doesn't know whether he'll be able to be a man of peace, doesn't know what he'll do without a war, he still wants ).

...

Ahsoka knows she can't promise he'll never lose her; the simple fact of the matter is that as long as this war is going, she'll be repeatedly putting herself in situations where her life is at risk. Hells, she's almost died more times than she can count in the last three years, and so has Rex. There's no guarantee that either of them will survive this.

Except that the Force hums with certainty, and she'd seen the little girl (her daughter?) in a dream one night, with the sort of unfading clarity characteristic of visions. And she wants this, wants it enough to demand it of the Force, of the universe; I have given enough, I have suffered enough, you will give me this, she thinks, and feels the Force sing in response.

I can't promise you I'll survive the war, she tells Rex quietly, pressing closer still to him. But I can promise that I'll do everything in my power to make sure we get this future.

She's not sure that's enough, but she thinks it helps, because he presses his lips to her montrals again, breathes out, "I love you, Soka."

I love you too, and she smiles a bit. Leave your shields down and sleep, Rexter. I'll keep the nightmares away.

...

Rex doesn't have the energy to do more than shift closer to Ahsoka and ease his thoughts against hers. Closing his eyes makes him remember the nightmare, and it takes some effort to push it down, dismiss it, and it's hard not to pull his shields back up. But she says she'll make sure he doesn't have nightmares, and he so wants to sleep, so he leaves the shields down and lets out a long sigh.

He hopes when he wakes up this will be better, but at least he knows, is certain, that when he wakes up Ahsoka will be here .

Thank you, he hums, means thank you for all of it, for trying to help, for being close. Soka's hand smoothes in small, sleepy circles over his back and she projects love and an instruction to sleep . He hardly needs it, because weariness presses down on him with a tangible, not-quite-unpleasant weight, and he drifts, hanging onto her mind so he doesn't feel afraid. She's still projecting soothing phrases at him in the back of his mind when he finally falls asleep again.

...

The Council's comm comes at about three a.m., ship time, jerking Anakin out of the first sound sleep without Padme he's had in weeks, and he swears irritably, fumbling for the small holoprojector on the table by his bed. "What the kriff do you want- oh. Master Windu." Kriff, kriff, kriff. The Council, of course it's the Council, at the absolute worst time.

"Skywalker," Windu says dryly. "I take it you're not a morning person?"

Not kriffing funny. "It's three in the morning, Windu, and I just kriffing got off Felucia, no I'm not a morning person!"

Windu shakes his head, looking annoyed, and also vaguely amused, and far too put-together. "Pull it together, Skywalker. We've got a lead on Grievous' location. We've tracked him to Utapau, though we aren't sure where on the planet he is. Get yourself and Kenobi there before he escapes again."

"Yes, Master," Anakin grumbles. "Can I at least sleep until a slightly more reasonable hour first?"

Windu purses his lips, says, "You can sleep in hyperspace, Skywalker. Get moving."

And the holo winks out.

Anakin groans, flops back down onto his bunk, and reaches reluctantly for his wristcomm. "Yularen, this is Skywalker." The Admiral is on the bridge right now, or should be anyway, keeping an eye on everything in case of an emergency.

There's a long pause, and then Yularen's voice crackles irritably over the comm. "What do you need, General?"

"Council commed. Grievous's been tracked to Utapau, we're going after him, with Obi-Wan. Set a course for the system, make sure the 212th is with us, and comm me when we're two hours out."

"What are you going to do?" Yularen's voice is as polite and calm as ever, but there's a bit of a questioning edge that has Anakin huffing a sigh.

"Go the kriff to sleep," he snaps, and then flops back with a sigh, closes his eyes. Kriff the kriffing Council, kriff Grievous, kriff Windu in particular. He's pretty sure Windu knows shiptime on the Resolute, has it memorized or something, because he always kriffing comms after midnight. The Jedi Master must take some perverse, twisted enjoyment from making Anakin suffer by interrupting his sleep.

Kriffing Windu.

Anakin falls asleep again with his mind spinning with ideas for programming a droid to wake Windu up every hour post-midnight, randomly, for the rest of his life. (The idea is very satisfying.)

...

Rex is very grateful for his helmet hiding his face from view today; he thinks anyone who looks at him would be able to see how tired he is (especially his vod'e - there are disadvantages to sharing a face with millions of other people). Ahsoka somehow doesn't look tired at all, and he envies her, which she seems to find vaguely amusing.

He'd gotten up earlier than he should have, probably, before Anakin even roused the rest of the battalion, and gone to look for a replacement part for the corroded plate in his blaster - he's had no luck, which means he's had to temporarily replace his dependable, well-balanced, modified DC with a regular one he found in the armory. Its balance isn't the same as his other, which isn't ideal, but it's better than fighting with only one blaster.

"We're going to have to handle this carefully," his General is saying, firmly, looking tired himself. It's too early , only 0500 or so. "If the general gets wind of our being on Utapau before we get a fix on his location, he'll be gone before we can get to him and it'll be another month before we find him again. We're taking transports down, just a few squads until we know where he is."

General Kenobi, over the holocomm, nods and crosses his arms. Rex doesn't think Kenobi should be allowed to fight, but it's not up to him. Most things aren't, for that matter. "Think of this as a scouting mission," he says, collected as ever. "We're here to find Grievous first, then we'll deal with what follows."

Rex glances at Bo-Katan Kryze, standing next to Jak and looking almost uninterested. The Death Watch had fought well on Felucia, but Rex still isn't comfortable with this, with them being in on their planning. He knows this is supposed to be an equal alliance, but still, it feels like a threat. It would be easy for this kind of mission to go wrong, easy to make it go wrong, and he wishes he knew it would just be his men. But that's not how things work anymore. Which might be good, but for now it's difficult.

...

Anakin sends Ahsoka with the newly-christened Domino squad, of course (she doesn't go anywhere without them on her six, these days, and she seldom lets them on missions without her there to watch their six), and with her and Rex he sends Jak, Elle, and four other Mandalorians. Assuming the mando'ade stay loyal (which she can't help doubting), their squad is pretty well-off; she's seen Jak and Elle fight, and most of the Mandalorian warriors are pretty good as well.

So Ahsoka isn't entirely sure what's causing the thrill of anxiety in her stomach, the twist of nerves she can't seem to settle. The Force isn't giving her any answers-in fact, when she reaches for it, for its calm, all she can feel is more of the same something's wrong here that she can't stop hearing whispered in the back of her mind.

Something's wrong here.

Jak and Elle have their helmets off, standing close together in the back of the transport, talking in low voices. Every now and then, she catches a few of the Mando'a words, but not enough to understand. From what she can see, though, Jak looks almost worried, his hands clenching around his blasters, and Elle is being very careful to stay a certain distance away from him, her movements slow and telegraphed

No, worried is the wrong word, she thinks; Jak looks frozen, has since Anakin had said they were en route to Utapau.

This is supposed to be a simple scouting mission, but something in her can't agree. Something's wrong here. She reaches for Rex, shivers a little, wondering if he feels the same strange foreboding hanging heavy in the air.

...

Rex frowns when Ahsoka projects a little of her feelings towards him, a certain wrongness that he's familiar with - but does not feel today. He trusts her instincts and what she says she hears from the Force, though, which means he needs to be worried.

We'll deal with whatever that is when it comes , he thinks. He follows a trail of thought and looks over at Jak Ordo, and the veteran's tight expression does seem like cause for concern.

I know . Ahsoka still feels unsettled, so Rex presses closer to her thoughts so he can pay attention to the sense of not right . If his own instincts aren't telling him anything, he'll share hers.

With a sigh, Rex pushes the feeling to the back of his mind where he can still pay attention to it, and grabs the overhead straps to hang onto as the transport engines start with a low hum.

Scouting is safe, scouting means unless things go wrong most of his vod'e will be alright. Granted, he doesn't really have the patience for sneaking around and waiting for something to happen, like he's a Jedi watching a tree grow, but today something safer is better.

...

The transport lands lightly on a ledge in the sinkhole they've been assigned to recon, and Ahsoka hesitates before following her squad out. Something, that little voice whispering wrong, wrong, wrong at her, tells her they should get back on the transport and leave this sinkhole. There's nothing to see here.

But that feels too much like Sidious' web, his low murmuring voice telling her to look away, there's nothing important here, and she pushes it away. She can't afford to be letting old memories like that distract her, not today. This is important.

They form up in a basic scouting formation, Ahsoka in the lead like always, Rex to her right and just behind her, despite Kix's protests. The tunnels are narrow, almost claustrophobic, which shouldn't mean anything, but the mando'ade have formed up almost protectively around Jak on Elle's signal, though they're staying a careful distance away from him, and something's wrong here, and she doesn't like this.

But Rex doesn't feel anything, which means she's overreacting-or the Force is trying to tell her something, which isn't good.

She signals to Kix. He comes up next to her with a frown, and in a low voice, she asks, "What's the Force telling you?"

Kix shivers. "Something's wrong here," he says, his words an uncanny echo of her own thoughts, and Ahsoka swallows.

This isn't good.

...

Rex has never liked dark, enclosed spaces, and this is no different. Even with his men watching his back, he doesn't like not being able to seeeverything, and it's worse because he knows that if it comes to a fight here, they won't be the ones with the advantage - hells, they'd likely be slaughtered. But they're scanning for energy signatures and Ahsoka and Kix are here and so far there hasn't even been a whisper from other sentients or a shout from droids. He keeps his footsteps slow, light, heel to toe so he's near-silent; his men all do the same, and the mando'adehad followed suit when they realized how easily and loudly everything echoed here.

Ahsoka has felt more and more anxious the deeper they get into the tunnels, and Rex doesn't like it - when he hears Kix softly agree that something is wrong he shivers. If the two Force-sensitives in their group say something isn't right, then it's not . They should pull back and regroup, come at this again later or not at all, send droids or get better scanners. "Commander," he says quietly, "if you're feeling this isn't right, we should reconsider our approach. We could be walking straight into a massacre."

Ahsoka turns her head, gives him a tight smile. "I think there's something important here," she says, and Rex wants to swear, a little, because that means they have to stay , but last time the Force told Ahsoka there was something important, they'd discovered Order Sixty-Six, and it had been a disaster, and he'd almost lost both her and Kix. But they'd also been able to save many of their vod'e and the Jedi, so Rex falls back a little and grits his teeth.

He wishes someone would tell the Force to stop interfering with regular common sense , teach it some battle strategies, like not marching into danger . If the Force is going to tell them there's danger, it should at least have the decency not to tell them to run headlong into it. But what does he know?

Rex, for kriff's sake, Ahsoka thinks, partly amused, partly annoyed. The will of the Force is important.

He knows that, has even felt it, a little, but he thinks the will of the Force is too dramatic and should just kriff off sometimes. Why can't we just pull back and regroup, maybe come back with more troopers?

He feels Ahsoka hesitate, and she stops, automatically holding up a hand to forestall their squad. He thinks she's listening, trying to figure out what she should do, and if he tries to nudge her thoughts a little toward retreat, who could blame him?

Sometimes your sense of self-preservation is utter shit, Soka , he grumbles.

Shut **up,** Rexter.

"What the kriff is going on?" a very familiar voice says, Crys again .

Rex sighs and turns. "We're deciding how to proceed, verd . The Commander thinks something's off."

"Is that all? " Crys snorts, and Rex frowns because normally he thinks Jak would have cut Crys off by now, but Jak doesn't look so focused.

"Yes, that's all ," Rex growls, impatiently. "Shut up and cool off, kid."

Crys hates being called kid, Rex has found. "So she's nervous, who gives a shit? We have a mission , right?"

Like Crys even cares they have a mission. The di'kut has little patience with campaigns that don't directly benefit Mandalore, it seems. "When a Jedi thinks something's off, kid, we listen. They're usually right." Then he turns back around so Crys knows he's done talking .

...

Rex is done, but apparently Crys isn't. "She might be a Jedi, but she's a child," he says, irate and almost superior. "Does she even know the difference between something off and battle jitters?"

"I've been fighting this war for three years," Ahsoka snaps out through gritted teeth, wishing he'd just shut up, because he's too loud in the narrow, echoing confines of the tunnel and she doesn't know what's coming but wrong, wrong, wrong the Force screams. "I know what I'm doing."

Crys is saying something else, she's not sure what, because she doesn't care, because-because there's a Force-signature approaching, two of them, vaguely familiar though she's not entirely sure why. Crys' voice turns even more superior, something about how he knew she wasn't cut out for this, but she ignores him, holds up a hand.

He doesn't stop talking.

"I don't take orders from jetii children," and that's enough.

Ahsoka spins, grabs the Force, and snarls out, "Be silent!"

His mouth opens, closes, opens-no words emerge, and he looks almost terrified. She can't help a tiny grin, because he hadn't expected a Force-suggestion that powerful, and then she turns back and focuses.

"We've got two incoming sentients," she says sharply, voice low. "Not sure if they're friendlies or not, so stay sharp."

And then there's a horribly familiar hissing noise, and she freezes.

No. No, no, no, she can't, she can't.

...

Rex waves his hand in a small signal, raises his blasters and waits. He doesn't know what to expect but two sentients is no problem for his squad, at least, shouldn't be. He slides his boot back on the stone and finds firmer footing, shifts so his weight rests on his back leg.

He wishes he had Ahsoka's sense of the Force, of where the sentients are , because waiting is not comfortable for him at the best of times.

Then there's finally sound, something other than dark and the quiet conversations of his squad, a sign of life , a crackling hum of electricity flaring to life and Rex knows that sound, his whole self knows it before he even puts words to it, and he instinctively scrambles back, almost forgetting his blasters except their weight is a comfort in his hands and he yanks them up , points them blindly in the direction of the sound, heart pounding.

Then there's a crack , and a shriek of pain, torn from a raw throat, and Rex goes tense, shaking, hard as stone because if he doesn't he's going to run . Ahsoka reaches out to him, clings hard to his thoughts, and he thinks he can't breathe right but he hangs onto her, tightens his hand so much around his DCs that he almost pulls back their triggers.

We need to go, need to go **now.**

Someone puts a hand on his shoulder and he whips around, jerks away, a harsh " No ," gritting out between clenched teeth. There are quiet confused and frightened sounds from the men around him and someone moves toward the screams and Rex grabs their arm because you don't do that , you stay back and you don't get hurt and you kriffing stay out of the way .

Stone grinds under his boots and his helmet feels stifling and he doesn't quite know what's happening but his instincts say get out . He just manages to stay put, though, because his men are here and he has to be with them, Ahsoka is here and she feels terrified and she needs him.

Out of the dark, someone says something, and then the electricity stops, goes silent, and Rex should think that's better but it's not because now he doesn't even know where they are, isn't sure, and he almost tugs his helmet off so he can breathe except his helmet means protection.

Then there's a new spike of panic from Ahsoka and he reaches out, grabs her arm to drag her back, (except she twists away and he wants to be holding onto her, needs her ) as a trio of figures emerge from a tunnel entrance ahead of them, freeze dead still on seeing them, and Rex can't help a small, frightened sound, his legs threatening to give out on him except he won't let them . Sharp teeth, yellow eyes, narrow features slack with surprise, a clawed hand wrapped loosely, casually around a whip and then Rex can't stand still and he stumbles back with Ahsoka, almost runsonly someone grabs his shoulders and stops him, holds him still and he can't, can't, can't think , they need to let go , gods, he doesn't- he… They're here and the ground is hard under his boots and he can't breathe and that hand is tightening around the whip and his neck burns .

"Let go," he snarls, thinks he sounds terrified , "Kriffing let go, we need-"

"Captain!" The sharp tone startles him but it's… right, he's… He grabs the forearm of the person holding his shoulders and twists it free, but he doesn't run. He needs to be here, because… what? It's okay not to run but why?

He's there, they'll hurt him again and take Ahsoka and he-

No, no, he's not… he's not on Kadavo. There's armor, and his blasters, and this… this is a vod . That means safety, means his men are here, means… He pants, reaches up and yanks his helmet off, heaves for breath, and the vod holding him pulls his own helmet off and it's Kix , oh gods . "Hey, hey, easy," and Rex projects something he hopes is close to reassurance, tries to force more awareness on her, of Kix and his face and the men surrounding them in a protective, tight formation and- and he can't look at the Zygerrians, can't do that, it's not safe .

...

Ahsoka can't breathe.

Her hands go to her neck almost on autopilot, because she knows this sound, knows these faces, and there's pain and she can't breathe and Rex grabs her but she twists away (follows him in stumbling blindly back) because that's not allowed, no touching, you can't. All she can see is that face, she knows that face, remembers pain and please don't, master, and she thinks she might be whimpering, hopes she's not screaming, but she can't quite seem to hear anything over the roaring in her montrals, the sound of screams and a shock whip hissing violently to life and pickaxes on stone and she can't-she can't-she has to run, she has to get away, they'll hurt her and take Rex away and she can't, she can't, she won't lose him, not this time, she won't let this happen.

There's hands on her upper arms, holding her still, keeping her from running, and she doesn't understand, jerks away, but the hands don't let goand she doesn't understand because touching's not allowed, she doesn't want the pain, doesn't want to hurt, to feel it, not again, she doesn't want Agruss and the shock collars and-and there's a voice, someone saying udesii, jetii, a woman, she doesn't know who or what or why or-

And then Rex is projecting-something, awareness, armor-Kix? But Kix isn't here, not if-not-she shakes her head, gasps in a desperate breath, something in her recognizing the paint on the armor in front of her as Elle, the Mandalorian releasing her shoulders as soon as she sees recognition, backing away, and she shakes her head again, backs up a bit, reaches for Rex and grabs his pauldron to steady herself. This isn't Kadavo, this is-this is Utapau, she's here with her men, with her squad, scouting for-for Grievous, she's not trapped, she has her 'sabers and she has the Force and they can't hurt her anymore.

Something's wrong here.

The Zygerrians haven't reacted yet, and it's sheer instinct to throw her hands out, shove them off their feet, and then she spins and gasps out, "We're leaving, now."

"Commander, the Force," Kix starts, and she interrupts him, hard.

"Kriff the Force! We have to go, get out **, now!"**

...

Rex tries to push past Kix, to obey his Commander and leave and get out like they have to , and Kix moves out of the way but the mando'ade don't, and he's already shouting at them to kriffing get moving before he registers one of them (Elle, her name's Elle) in front of him, holding both hands out, staying well back from him. "Captain, we can't."

They have to , kriff the mission, he's not staying here , not with them, not here, not ever, not again . "Now," he snarls, but she just steps back and doesn't let him past . He almost tries to fight his way past her except suddenly he manages to focus, see the other mando'ade behind her, blocking off the tunnel as they try to stay away from Jak, who's gone intensely, horribly still, staring past Rex and his battalion at the Zygerrians. He reminds Rex of a threatened predator, crowded back into a corner, just a breath away from lashing out in desperation. Rex twists, looks at the Zygerrians again, and they're getting back to their feet, wary, and Rex's men form a solid line between them and the slavers so… so Rex breathes , forces himself to leave his helmet off, to not be sick, to stop trying to run . He has to trust his men to protect him ( but he can't let them be hurt, can't let the slavers near them, if they hurt his men he'll crumble), because they can't leave until he knows they can do it without Jak losing it, and the focus of something to do helps him pull back from all the memories, all the screaming and the pain and they won't stop .

...

Rex, we have to **go,** Ahsoka thinks firmly, hands clutching at her sabers. They can't stay, they can't, the Zygerrians will hurt her men and Rex and her and she can't-

Look at Jak, Rex says, and she does.

And then she swears silently, because she recognizes that posture, the way his men are all backed away, but- we have to, please, we can't stay!

Before Rex can respond, one of the Zygerrians (the unfamiliar one) steps forward. "Well well well, what do we have here?" he asks, voice smooth and cultured.

"I know the two skugs in the middle," one of the two collared ones says, smiles gleefully. "The Jedi screams."

She thinks she might be sick.

"Clones do too, if you shock them hard enough," the other collared one agrees, smirks.

"Silence," and the third one glares, and the two subside. "If the Republic has gotten wind of our location, we will have to relocate. The solution is simple: this scouting party cannot be allowed to report in again. Enslave them." And then he presses a button on the haft of his whip, an alarm she thinks, and she can feel more signatures approaching at high speeds.

She grabs onto Rex, can't breathe, can't go back to this, and she ignites her sabers and says, "No, we won't, you can't!"

...

Rex lifts his blasters and shoots, fast, but not steady, and his shots miss ; then he hears Elle swear, almost panicked and he turns, half-aware of his men falling back as pounding footsteps grind on stone and harsh voices echo through the tunnel. Something has shifted , this is enough of a threat that Jak suddenly looks panicked , and that's dangerous, Rex sees it in the way he gathers himself, fists curling tighter, edging towards his blasters, and they need to go because there're too many Zygerrians and Rex doesn't want to fight because he thinks he'd be useless if he heard one of those whips again. (Fighting isn't worth it, it just hurts , and he can't, won't do it again, it's not-)

Kriff . Rex does the only thing that makes sense, in that moment - he pushes Elle out of his way and strides forward, towards Jak, hears all the mando'ade try to warn him, and he knows this is a risk but he also has to get them all moving and Jak is going to fight and lash out and Jak probably doesn't even know who's with him, where he is. (Rex hardly does.)

Jak's hands twitch over his blasters and Rex sets his own down on the hard ground, his helmet next to them, ignores the sounds of blasterfire as his vod'e engage the Zygerrians. He can almost pretend this isn't Kadavo, they aren't Zygerrians (it's not kriffing Kadavo, it's Utapau, he needs to focus ), and Jak is just a frightened, confused vod .

The veteran seems to focus, just a little, because Rex can hear his breathing steady, and Elle says, "Kriffing back off, Captain, he's going to kill you."

Rex doesn't intend to let that happen. Soka, tell the men not to let them through. She feels scared, and panicked, and it's hard not to fall into that to but he has to do this and then they can run and he can be as sick and horrified as he wants. Come on, cyare, we're okay. They can't take us again .

Surely they can't, not with his men here and all the mando'ade and their weapons. He knows that, that they have to be fine, that this is a battle they can win, it's just…

He's not doing this right now, right now if he doesn't help Jak, Jak's going to lose it and Rex has seen him fight now and he knows Elle speaks from experience, so he holds out his hands slightly in Jak's direction, palms open.

Jak whips his blasters out and aims them both at Rex, convulsive, but he doesn't shoot. Rex isn't sure why he doesn't, but he stops, holds still, posture as open as he can make it. " Alor, udesii . Gedet'ye ." Jak twitches a little at the Mando'a, but it seems to help, although his muscles do not loosen. " An jate, vod, gar jate. "

" Nayc, " Jak snarls, his voice mostly fear and panic and sharp-edged desperation. " Ne shab'rud'ni ."

Rex takes a step back, nods. "Okay. Okay, udesii . Sorry." He keeps both his hands well within Jak's limited scope of vision. "You have your blasters, alor , 'lek? So you can do this."

There's a pause, then Jak shakes his head and some of the tension shifts . Rex gets ready to move if he must, and he feels Ahsoka say we have to go, Rex, please, we need to leave, we're so outnumbered and he pushes that away because right now he has to get Jak focusing .

"That one knows me," Jak growls out, in Basic that's more accented and slurred than usual. Rex doesn't know who Jak is referring to, except it's probably one of the Zygerrians, and he understands. These creatures broke him, he's sure they hurt Jak, and it's too much to be here and see them and it might mean he's never been free but.

"Then we can kriffing end him ," Rex says, with a hatred thick and hot that he'd almost forgotten. "But you need to focus, alor , and we need to go. Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur ."

Jak lowers his blasters just a touch, nods. " Gar serim ," he says, voice heavy with a threat, and Rex isn't so sure this is better, but this is Jak focused, at least, and he won't kill his allies.

" Jate, alor. Vor'e ."

Then Rex bends down to pick up his blasters and turns back to the fight, to his vod'e , feeling his heartbeat begin to rush in his ears again, breaths not coming quite right. But at least he has his men, his weapons, at least he's protected , can protect too.

...

Once Rex finally gets Jak-not about to kill his allies, Ahsoka breathes out heavy relief and signals a retreat. She forces herself to stay at the back, deflecting bolts and protecting, even though she wants nothing more than to run, to hide, to cling to Rex and curl up in somewhere small and familiar and safe, where there are four walls around her and no one can sneak up on her.

Still, she holds the line, stays on her squad's six, so they can get away, can get back to the transport. Even as her sabers tremble and she can'tbreathe and the Zygerrians are laughing and-

Come on, Soka, Rex calls, and she jumps into the transport, shouts for the pilot to take them up. They need to regroup, to come back with more men and more weapons and a plan.

So she reaches for Anakin, though she knows she's interrupting a meeting between him and Obi-Wan and Bo-Katan. Master, there's Zygerrians down here, a full settlement.

Anakin is angry. Furious, in fact, and maybe this was a mistake. Get back here, regroup, and we'll kriffing **destroy** them. Shields snap up, hard and fast enough to leave her reeling, and she grabs onto one of the handles and struggles to breathe.

Anakin is angry, Rex, she thinks slowly, winces a little. Really angry.

...

As the transport takes off and they're no longer in deep danger, Rex's memories sweep over him with the full force of a Kaminoan wave. He finds he doesn't even have the strength to be angry, not if he wants to keep all the images back , things he'd mostly learned to manage until now. He'd tried to run , nearly left his men and his Jedi, and he knows no one can blame him but that doesn't make it easier to face that again, the utter terror.

Rex thinks if Anakin gets to the Zygerrians, there will be nothing left of them. And the fear choking him and the nausea in his stomach say he wants that, wants this threat to be gone , because he'd thought they were safe before and here the Zygerrians are again, those faces, the slaver who'd kept him from saving Soka, the sick chakaar who'd ruined her headtails. He just wants them to be safe .

Who cares, he thinks, doesn't quite mean it. (He pulls slivers of metal out her hands, trying to ignore the fact that he's done trying . That they have him as sure as breathing.) Let him kriffing end them, I don't give a shit.

Ahsoka fits her free arm around him, rests her head against his pauldron, stepping into his mind and easing against his thoughts, impossibly close, enough shields up that he can't see her memories, just knows they're there. She projects love, and he thinks she's trying to soothe him. He tries to do the same, but he doesn't feel right .

Kix is watching him, and Brii, too - when Kix sees him look at him, he smiles a little, salutes. It makes his stomach hurt.

...

Ahsoka can't quite bring herself to lift her head from Rex's shoulder until after the transport's landed back in the belly of the Resolute; even then, she can't make herself look directly at anyone, keeps her eyes on the floor, on her feet, clings to Rex's hand like a lifeline and doesn't let go. She knows Rex is feeling much the same way she is, maybe more angry than her-she's mostly just terrified, and tired of that, tired of the way panic flows like blood through her veins, like adrenaline, leaves her shaky and vague and unfocused and breathing too fast.

Rex tries to soothe her, but she knows this is as much a struggle for him as it is for her, and he can't quite reassure her. Which is okay, she understands, knows he's trying the best he can. She returns the favor, wraps him in love, tries to help soothe away the worst of the memories, but it's hard and there's so much pain and she shivers, presses closer to him.

Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Bo-Katan are waiting on the bridge; Anakin is pacing a path around the perimeter of the holotable, Bo-Katan is idly cleaning her blasters, and Obi-Wan looks to be meditating. The instant Domino squad troops in, a bit beat-up but mostly alright (she thinks maybe one or two have singed armor, but no real injuries), Anakin spins around, eyes going wide. "Snips! What the kriff," he snaps, and he looks murderous. "You can't just tell me there are slavers down there and then cut me off, the hell-"

"Sorry, Skyguy," she manages, wincing a little-she really hadn't meant to put her shields up, but… "You didn't want to see," and she thinks he understands because something like understanding flashes across his face.

Are you alright? he asks silently, and she shakes her head at him, slow and small and almost imperceptible.

No, I-I'm not.

She presses closer to Rex, leans her head into his pauldron again, even though the hard plastoid isn't the most comfortable, closes her eyes. For a moment, there's silence, and then:

"We should wipe them out."

It's Elle, and her voice is the hardest Ahsoka's ever heard, hard enough that Ahsoka shifts a little so she can look at the Mandalorian. Her eyes are hard and she's, surprisingly enough, looking at Jak. Ahsoka follows her eyes to the older warrior, and she understands.

Because Jak is frozen, still, so cold and calm, a laser-sharp focus in his one grey eye, and his hands are still steady on his blasters, and he-he almost looks like he's ready to pull his blasters on Anakin, at the slightest provocation.

And that's not good.

If Jak decides to-to attack, she doesn't think they could stop him. After all, he knows how to kill Jedi, has killed Jedi, won't hesitate to do it again.

...

Jak keeps himself still , because that is what he has learned, more than anything. Stillness is safety. Stillness is nonthreatening, a snake in the grass, perfectly harmless and submissive until time comes to strike, when they can't fight. Stillness is readiness, good aim, waiting , biding his time. And stillness is being small , being unnoticed, head down and not lifting back up, not flinching, not fighting, just being; it is reacting no more than he must when the whip scores along his back, so the lash doesn't destroy his muscles more than it has to; it is ignoring the way he burns and the others die so that he can survive; it is letting them do whatever they want because at the end of it he survives . Stillness is sinking into barely more than a husk, barely more than motion, so that what little is left of him does not break .

When the Kyr'tsad had freed him, freed him from a market here on Utapau, there had been no purchasing, no agreements, no haggling with his master. Pre Vizsla, Bo-Katan, Elle, and two others had found him and they'd broken him out, taken him with them. And he has no master now, but the Zygerrian who had bought him on Utapau… he is still alive, still knows him, still could claim him.

Jak will kill him, will make him look him in the eyes and suffer, choke him to death with his own whip. Like he wants to do to all of the pathetic life-forms who claimed to own him.

"We can't do that," Kenobi says, and Jak tightens his hands on his blasters, controls a scowl. Stillness. Not a threat, not a being. Just stone. He thinks Kenobi seems reluctant to say it, nonetheless. "They're sentients, stranded out here."

Let them be stranded.

(Jak's legs are shaky today. He cannot walk, it's simple, he can't. His master drags him by the hair, flings him to the ground at the edge of the field, grinds a boot into his lacerated shin. Jak lets out a cry but does not move, does not plead. Enough reaction to appease the overseer, not so much that he feels how disgusting he is. "They told me you were a good worker. I'd hate for them to be wrong and have to dispose of you.")

"I don't care," Elle says, her anger smooth and steady, the kind not everyone knows to fear. But Jak knows, because that is his anger now. Certain. Still on edge - every time Skywalker moves, Jak wants to shoot him, because he is a threat . Kenobi too, but Kenobi is still . Easier to watch, easier to predict.

Jak wonders if his master knew . He knows the adiik and the jetii were recognized (and that is a burning thing, too, another reason to kill ), but he had his helmet and he thinks that means this time… this time he saw his enemy but his enemy didn't see him. There is some relief in that, in knowing that he is ready to kill, ready to fight, and the Zygerrian has no idea what's coming for him. A snake that blends into the dust can strike before it's seen, and poison kills fast .

So Jak can be still, can wait, can bide his time. (Can keep his head down so he doesn't get hurt.)

...

Brii isn't quite sure what to do.

The Captain and the Commander are curled close to each other, like they're each using the other to stay standing, and they'd panicked, an awful thing, the Captain trying to run away and dragging the Commander with him. And Brii may be new to the squad, to the battalion, but he's given Captain Rex three tattoos, has seen the scars from collar and whip and staff, and Fives had told him some of what'd happened on Kadavo (and thinking of Fives still hurts), so he'd known.

But knowing and, and knowing, are two totally different things, it seems.

And Jak Ordo looks like a cornered loth-wolf, like the Commander and General Skywalker sometimes do when they feel trapped, and Brii knows that's because of the Zygerrians, and he burns.

He doesn't mean to speak, but when Elle says I don't care, all smoothness and anger, the fire burning in him makes him step forward, makes him say, "I agree with Elle."

"Brii-" General Kenobi starts, but Brii shakes his head, cuts the Jedi off (and it's the anger, it's all the anger, he'd never dare to do this otherwise).

"One of them said the Jedi screams, and he laughed," Brii says, and he realizes with a dim, distant sort of shock that his voice is cold. "They were going to make us all slaves, sir!"

There's a pause. General Skywalker looks furious, cold and deadly; General Kenobi is thoughtful. Brii can't bring himself to look at the Mand'alor, at Bo-Katan.

And then Jak speaks. "They die." The two words are heavy, ponderous, dropped into the silence like stones into the still surface of a pond.

Brii darts a glance at Bo-Katan Kryze, strangely nervous, and sees she's studying Jak closely. "Was he there?" she asks, very soft, very gently, posture totally open, and the older warrior nods shortly, once.

"Elek, Mand'alor."

Whoever he is, Brii doesn't think that's good. At all.

...

Rex thinks this is something that should concern him, the discussion about the Zygerrians' fate. Instead he merely tracks with it while clinging to Ahsoka's thoughts and reminding himself that he's okay , that she doesn't hate him. Being on the Resolute helps - the Resolute is durasteel and pale light and safety .

When Bo-Katan asks Jak if " he was there ," when Jak says yes and Rex remembers him saying "that one knows me," he thinks he understands why Jak looks so still and sounds so dangerous, why Bo-Katan suddenly turns to his General and says, "He's right. It's long past time someone ended them."

Slaves have masters, and he thinks maybe Jak had seen one of his.

The Jedi screams.

Clones do too, if you shock them hard enough.

And they had begged too, both of them. Those Zygerrians know it. And Rex wants them dead for it, simple as that.

And yet part of him balks at what he knows the Death Watch means: all the Zygerrians dead. He'd wanted that after Kadavo and he can't deny wanting it a little now, but that would be… would be too much. A slaughter, almost certainly. But they can't just leave the Zygerrians either, not after what they said and did, not with their whips and cruel smiles and the way they have always thrived on the pain of others.

"We are not wiping out an entire colony of sentients," Kenobi insists, and Rex sees Anakin scowl. "I am not… fond of them, myself, but we can't."

"They kriffing stuck you in a cage, Master," Anakin snarls. "Molec tortured you, the queen- You can't possibly want us to just leave them alone!"

"That does not come into it," Kenobi says, and Rex frowns and nudges Ahsoka's thoughts.

I don't understand how General Kenobi does this.

Ahsoka startles a little, out of a memory of pain , and Rex sighs and quickly runs his hand over her headtails a few times, soothing. I don't either , she thinks.

"If you were imprisoned by them," Bo-Katan says sharply, "then you must know we can't leave them alive, Kenobi. Filth like them don't need a place in the galaxy."

"We don't get to be judges and executioners," Kenobi snaps, sharper than Rex has heard him for a long time.

...

From the start, Bo-Katan had thought this mission was a bad idea. She's known about the Zygerrian colony here for years, of course, ever since she and Elle and Pre had come across Jak enslaved in that colony and rescued him. When she'd heard that the war was taking them back to Utapau, she'd hoped they wouldn't be anywhere near this colony.

She should've known better than to hope. "If your conscience prevents you from doing the right thing, then by all means, stay behind." She pauses, looks steadily at Skywalker. "But I'm taking my warriors and ending this filth."

"I'm coming with you," Tano says softly, not lifting her head from Rex's pauldron. There's an old fear there, an old pain, and Bo-Katan burns. She likes this jetii, after all.

"Just be careful, Mand'alor," Kenobi says steadily, "that in your attempt to mete out justice, you do not make yourselves the judges of things you don't understand."

Jak goes still at that, battle-still, and Bo-Katan swallows because this is not a good sign, and she really would rather not have a dead jetii on her hands. "Be careful, Kenobi," she warns icily.

...

Kenobi doesn't know what he's talking about. Jak understands these slavers, has seen more than enough overseers and masters to teach him exactly how they work. If anyone can judge them, it's him and the jetii Tano and the Alor'ad .

"I am not going to become a murderer for the sake of fear," Kenobi says sharply. "You know well enough what happens when we do that. This won't be justice , Mand'alor, it will be a massacre."

"It is not the same," Jak growls, and it takes some effort not to take a threatening step forward. Stillness . Wait. "They are slavers. I understand what they are, jetii , I more than anyone am allowed to be executioner. This is not the same as your Order killing my people."

"Isn't it?" Kenobi snaps, and Jak grinds his teeth together, considers shooting now, watching the jetii fall, and the thought is satisfying - but he has more control than that still. "And how is it up to you to decide who is too evil to live, Jak Ordo? How is the reckoning your right?"

Jak almost laughs , because this is the jetiise always, pretending to be righteous when they're just weak and diseased. "By blood and scars and fifteen years at the hands of hut'uun like them, jetii , because of you."

"It isn't right, still," and it's his Mand'alor's voice, Jango's - the adiik's . He sounds exhausted, angry, uncertain, but, "We can't attack a colony of civvies with children. It would be a slaughter, and I… It wouldn't be right ."

"How can you say that, after all they and scum like them have done to the galaxy, to your General?" Bo-Katan asks, nearly dismissively, like she finds him ridiculous.

Jak doesn't understand either. He's seen the adiik's scars, and his cyare's. This one has a master in that colony and he wants to let them live? It occurs to him that perhaps the adiik is just afraid, wants to run.

"Because I hate them ," Rex snarls, with a venom that Jak has not heard from the adiik before. "But like the General said, I'm not going to become a murderer for it."

...

Ahsoka wants nothing more than to see every single one of the Zygerrians dead, to know she is safe again, to know the only ones she'll ever have to call master are those who deserve it-but she remembers Sidious, remembers I forgive you! and the Force singing, like it had on Mortis when Anakin controlled both the Son and the Daughter. The anger and fear and pain of her memories practically begs her to descend upon the colony with lightsabers glowing, with the Son's fiery rage burning through her veins, and she almost steps forward.

Almost.

But… doesn't everyone deserve a second chance? Kix hums, and Ahsoka sees again the three Zygerrians in the tunnels, sees collars on two of their necks, and she hesitates.

Bo-Katan is looking at her expectantly, but Ahsoka finds herself suddenly reconsidering her decision to go with them. "I…" she starts, hesitates. "The guards had collars on."

"What does that matter?" Bo-Katan asks, shifting a little.

And Ahsoka thinks, strangely, of Anakin, of his story of Tatooine, and she takes a careful breath. "You never found out why the Tuskens took your mother," she says, watches Anakin flinch. "We-we can't make that mistake here. We need more information."

Doesn't everyone deserve a second chance?

She wants them dead- or is that the fear talking, the whisper that she'll never be safe as long as they live? "They die," Jak says again, so simple, and it takes all her will to shake her head.

"Doesn't everyone deserve a second chance?" she whispers, and then, "Some of them are slaves, and-no one deserves that."

...

It is a deep relief, to Rex, to hear Ahsoka say that. He'd felt her fear and pain, so when she said she would go with Bo-Katan, he had not wanted to tell her he thought that was unwise. Of course he'd go with her where she went, but this… it would be too much.

"They do," Jak says, uncompromising, dangerous. "Remember what they did to you, jetii - they are only experiencing what they've always done to others. If you want to give them mercy, you can kill them." Rex doesn't think they can stop Jak from laying waste to that colony, not without making themselves his enemies as well. Jak has agreed to cooperate with Ahsoka, but this is not something he will budge on.

Ahsoka hesitates, and Rex feels this all goes against her instincts and her fears and everything she wants to do, but, "We can't."

Jak growls and then with a suddenness that makes Rex flinch, he turns on Anakin and Kenobi and says, fierce, "We're going, now."

General Kenobi actually squares his shoulders and it occurs to Rex that he might try to stop Jak - him with a hole in his chest still. For a moment Jak locks eyes with Kenobi and Rex has a horrible image of Kenobi on the floor, neck broken, before Cody can even fire at Jak. But Anakin talks first. "We should scout it out."

Thank the little gods . Jak stops, and the mando'ade - who'd begun moving as soon as Jak did - all look at Anakin suspiciously. "Explain," Jak growls.

Rex thinks he's too lost in his memories, still, to be ready for this kind of threat - his gut says he should get out before this escalates, and it takes control to stay still and ready. He rests his hand between Ahsoka's shoulder blades, breathes.

...

All of this-from the slavers to Tatooine and the Tuskens to Jak's hands tight around his blasters-it all hits too close to home for Anakin's comfort, stretches his control to the limits and beyond, leaving him struggling to keep his breaths even, his hands loose and relaxed. Every instinct screams that Jak is a hostile, and it's all he can do not to draw his lightsaber, step in front of his Master. Obi-Wan is still injured (Obi-Wan is the weakest of the group), and Jak is a krayt dragon boxed into a cave, hissing and snapping, claws unsheathed and razor fangs bared and wings mantled.

He wants Padme.

Padme would be able to diffuse the situation with a few calm words, would be able to soothe Jak, talk the old warrior down enough so that they can make plans-but Padme isn't here, and Obi-Wan is prey, and Anakin doesn't think either Ahsoka or Rex are in a good enough place, right now, to try and handle this.

Which means it's up to him.

He takes a deep breath, tries to open his posture, keeping his hands well-within Jak's vision. "I want to see them dead too," he admits, but holds up one hand to forestall the Mandalorian's response-a trick he'd picked up from Padme. "But-" a breath, in and out, control the anger, let it go, give it to the Force, "I was born a slave to the Hutts. The Jedi found me on Tatooine when I was nine, freed me, took me to the Temple, but they-couldn't free my mother."

Jak just looks at him, and Anakin takes another careful breath, because if this doesn't work he's not sure what he's going to do. "Not-not that that really matters," he adds, under his breath, sighs. "The point is, I was raised as a slave, and if someone had come in and just destroyed everything, my mom and I and all the rest of us, we would've died, because we depended on our masters to survive. So we can't just go into this blind. There are children down there, Jak, and I know the Mando code doesn't approve of killing innocent children."

Jak's left hand tightens more on his blaster, but his right hand goes to a hilt sheathed on his leg, and Anakin finds himself not wanting to knowwhat that is. "What would a jetii know of our honor? You have none," the old warrior snarls out, but he's not so much angry as-as trapped, Anakin thinks, as claustrophobic.

It all happens in slow motion-Jak is tensing, tightening, intent and focused and ice, a rattlesnake just beneath the surface of the sand, and Anakin sees it too late to say anything. Crys is moving, stepping forward, pulling his helmet off with a brash look on his face, and the Kyr'tsad warrior rolls his eyes, says, "Who gives a shit about the Mando code of honor?" and he's too loud, too close, and Anakin watches in horror as he pulls his blaster.

And Jak moves.

Faster than a striking snake, the older mando'ad has a blaster in one hand and a mid-length vibroblade in the other, lunging at Crys, and Anakin lets his instincts take over-he pulls his 'saber, Force-jumps over Jak, ignites the blade as he lands. Jak strikes with the vibroblade, and kriff it's cortosis-weave, it catches his blue 'saber blade on the edge, and Jak looks murderous, shoving forward, aiming to fire with his blaster, and Anakin swears. "Stand down," he snaps out, to no effect, and he has to back up, disengage to deflect the blaster bolts harmlessly into the air.

Jak holsters his blaster, pulls out a second vibroblade, and advances; Anakin holds back, slides into the opening position of Soresu, clutches his defense close, because he's not attacking. He won't.

"Jak!" Bo-Katan shouts, and she sounds panicked, but the old warrior doesn't listen, just launches an attack, and kriff he's good, all fierce strength and flowing like water from stance to stance, trying to-to get past Anakin, to get to Crys, to eliminate the threat, and Anakin doesn't know what to do.

And then: "Al'verde, gev!"

It's-it's Ahsoka, stepping away from Rex with her eyes flashing. "Sushi at haar Mand'alor, Al'verde. Udesii, gev, mirdir."

And Jak stops, freezes mid-motion, eyes calculating, and then he takes a step back, spins, points his vibroblades at Ahsoka, dangerously, threateningly. "Tion'jor?"

"Aliit ori'shya tal'din. Kaysh Kyr'tsad, bid kaysh b'aliit, kaysh be'vod." She steps even closer to Jak, hands on her hips, firm. "Kaysh mirsh solus, a kaysh su b'aliit."

There's a very very long pause, and then Jak slowly, slowly drops his vibroblades. "Gar serim, alor," and he nods his head, steps back. "N'ceta, vod, Mand'alor," and he turns to Bo-Katan, bows his head low and doesn't look up, almost slumping. "I am not fit for this mission," he says slowly, his Basic even more accented and slurred than usual.

When the kriff did you get fluent in Mando'a? Anakin asks Ahsoka, deactivating his 'saber and hooking it back on his belt. She projects a snippet of a memory at him, her asking Rex to teach her, and he smiles a little, steps forward again. "Jak-"

The warrior spins, cuts him off. "Why did you not attack?" he asks harshly, shaking his head. "You are a jetii, you could have killed me in my a'den."

Anakin frowns, tilts his head to one side, says, "I didn't want to kill you, Jak, just stop you from doing something you'd regret later." Jak doesn't understand, but that's okay. "Come on, vod, it's all good, if you're good-we still want you down there with us. I'd trust you on my six."

Jak barks a hoarse laugh. "You are a fool."

"Yes, he is," Obi-Wan says, glares. "Anakin, if you get yourself killed-"

That's so unfair. "I had it under control!" he yelps, hands flying out to the sides.

Ahsoka laughs, and kriff her, she's supposed to be on his side, here. "Of course you did, Skyguy. That's why I had to step in and save you, again."

"Shut up, Snips," he grumbles sulkily.

And then Bo-Katan snaps out, "Crys Rodarch, barracks, now. We will be discussing this later."

"But I-"

"Ne'johaa," she hisses, one hand going to the darksaber hilt (and kriff, she's scary when she does that). "This is not up for debate."

"Yes, sir," the idiot kid says sulkily, and then he turns and storms off the bridge.

...

Rex freezes as soon as Jak's vibroblade comes out of its sheath, instinctively scrambles back until his back hits a row of databanks. Ahsoka comes with him, more controlled, and he feels her fear, but he's terrified because fighting means pain and it'll just hurt his vod'e and his General and all of them and he doesn't-

Rex, cyare , and he flinches, drags himself back from the panic, but he can't step in, Anakin has this after all - but Jak fights like a Loth-wolf, hard blows and no wasted movement, smooth yet intense , and Rex should get in there and help but there is something in his bones that's frozen and doesn't let him move .

Until there's a twist of resolve and suddenly his Soka strides away from him, firm and calculated, and Anakin and Jak both look at her at once as she says, " Al'verde , gev! "

Her sentence isn't the smoothest, but she tells him to stop and think and Rex projects warning.

Kriffing don't, Soka, it's not safe . Maybe she can succeed in talking Jak down, but he has been in danger of snapping since they saw- saw the Zygerrians, and Rex thinks she'll make him feel even more trapped.

And Jak has a point, why should he stop, this is all dangerous , Crys has been nothing but a threat, and of course he doesn't deserve to die but Jak doesn't care right now and Rex just wants her to come back and stop taking risks, now isn't the time, he-

He has to kriffing control himself .

He pushes himself away from the databanks, takes a few measured steps toward Ahsoka, although he stops before he can appear as another threat to Jak because then, then Jak might kill her . So no eye contact, no looking at Jak, just easing a hand close to his blaster (but not too close, not too dangerous), just waiting, hoping that when Ahsoka says, "He is your family" it isn't the wrong thing . (Ahsoka's Mando'a is better than Rex had thought; she seems to have picked up more from the 501st than he thought. Part of him hopes there are some terms she hasn't figured out yet.) Anakin's hand is tight enough around his saber that Rex knows he's afraid too.

He's fixated on Jak's hands on the hilts of his vibroblades ( the Zygerrian's thumb on the whip shifts towards the switch, knuckles tightened into sharp angles, and Ahsri and the old Togrutan kneel on the ground and Rex still doesn't totally realize what will happen, until the Zygerrian overseer shifts his hand so his grip is better, stronger, and flicks the whip, only the tension in his hand belying the casual expression on his face, and- ), so he notices immediately when Jak's grip loosens and then the blades fall to the floor with a deafening clang and Rex can move again, can shove down the icy fear in his limbs yet again and move to stand just behind his jetii .

Jak looks ashamed, says n'ceta and Rex finds he understands, and something about that helps ground him, helps him focus and feel less like Jak is a threat. Ahsoka and Anakin talk like this is fine now, although there is wariness in Soka's thoughts, but Rex thinks this still isn't right , Jak is unstable and he does not want to scout out the colony, wants them all to just leave and ignore it all. This isn't okay.

...

Jak is disgusted with himself.

He stands, head bowed, eyes trained on the tops of his boots, waits for his Mand'alor to mete out punishment. He deserves discipline for this, he knows; he's attacked Kyr'tsad, he's attacked his aliit, and had it not been for the jetiise he would've almost certainly killed Crys Rodarch (who is a di'kut, he should have known better than to pull a blaster). He doesn't understand why Skywalker hadn't killed him, though he understands even less why the jetii had protected Rodarch in the first place: the adiik has been… not good.

Skywalker's answer makes very little sense. What makes even less sense is the fact that the jetii had called him brother. Perhaps it's an instinctive thing; Jak has seen how the jetii calls his men vod, how they return the favor when off-duty. (He doesn't think it's instinctive.)

After Bo-Katan sends the di'kut adiik back to the barracks to sit out the rest of the mission, there's silence, thick and heavy, and no one seems very interested in dispelling it. Jak does not speak. He has not earned the right to. (He should not have lost control of himself so.)

"Jak," the Mand'alor says carefully, as though she's worried he'll attack (and that makes him sick, he would never attack his Mand'alor, not even in the deepest throes of a flashback), and he carefully regulates his response, tamps down the urge to look up, keeps his eyes focused steady and still on the ground. "Jak, can you handle this?"

She should not have to ask. He should never lose himself so much that his Mand'alor doubts his ability to be calm during battle. To fight, to focus, to do what he has trained to do since an early age. "Elek, Mand'alor," he replies, smooth and low, hopes his voice does not betray him by shaking. He is fine. The jetii wants him on this aka, therefore he must go, must fight. Or not fight, if that is the chosen route, though the idea makes his blood boil with hatred.

(He has shamed his entire aliit today, in behaving as an adiik after shedding first blood-the Mand'alor would be perfectly justified in refusing to allow him to fight, though the jetii Skywalker wants him along. Wants him, Jak Ordo, on his six. He doesn't understand.)

The clone verde shift awkwardly, looking around at each other, clearly unsure what to do now. Jak can't bring himself to look at the Alor'ad, or at Tano, or at Bo-Katan, so he just stands, forces his hands to stay open, though his fingers want to curl back into tight fists. "I shouldn't have let them send you down there," Bo-Katan says, and that is surprising enough that he raises his eye to her face before jerking it quickly back down. "We knew what was down there-"

"No, Mand'alor, we didn't," Elle says firmly. "It's been a decade, how could we be expected to know if the scum are still there or not?"

"What are you talking about?" Skywalker asks, and Jak masters a flinch, does not move. He cannot.

Bo-Katan's voice is measured when she speaks. "Pre Vizla, Elle, and I, along with a few others, rescued Jak from this colony ten years ago."

He does not want their pity, want the looks he can feel sparking over his skin like electricity (the man who calls himself Jak's master presses the switch and his collar hisses to life and pain grips him like a vice, and he gasps a jagged breath, curls his fingers round the durasteel bar and does not fight because he survives, fighting is death and he will not die this way), does not want to hear the useless platitudes of apology, because words are all well and good, but where were those words when Dooku sold him?

(His hands are bound tight together and he cannot free them, his collar sparks and spits and he does not scream, he curls over himself, grits his teeth together, imagines he is cloaked in the comforting weight of his beskar'gam, his blasters in his hands, and he almost misses it when there's a strange whining hum and his arms are freed, and then something slices through the collar, just barely kisses his neck, leaves a scorching burn behind on the scar tissue thick and black and bubbling there, and he can hardly breathe from the pain and there are hands pulling him upright, familiar rippling words of a language he has not heard in fifteen years, save from his own lips. There is a black blade he knows intimately, though the armor is not his Mand'alor, but that doesn't matter, he chokes out a desperate plea, thinks maybe he's hallucinating, it wouldn't be a surprise, he's been too long without food and water, too long in the pain.)

They've been talking. He swallows, tries to shove away the memories, back behind the beskar'gam of his mind, where they belong. He has no use for these memories, they are nothing but pain and sorrow and grief and horror, nothing but a catalyst for actions he doesn't wish to do, and he breathes, in and out, in and out, lifts his head, meets his Mand'alor's gaze. "I will go," he says, and his words are rough and perhaps too heavy, too slow, but they are enough.

* * *

 **Mando'a translations:**

 _Yaim_ : home

 _Ni partayli, gar darasuum:_ I remember you, so you are eternal.

 _Laam, buir, laam!_ : Up, Daddy, up! (technically, because Mando'a doesn't have gendered nouns, buir just means parent, and gender depends on context)

 _Verd(e):_ soldier(s)

 _Alor_ : leader, chief, head

 _An jate, vod, gar jate:_ Everything's good, mate, you're good.

 _Ne shab'rud'ni:_ Don't mess with me/leave me alone - very strong warning and a threat of physical violence

 _Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur:_ Today is a good day for someone else to die.

 _Gar serim:_ You're right.

 _Vor'e_ : Thanks

 _Gev_ : stop

 _Al'verde_ : Commander

 _Sushir at haar Mand'alor, Al'verde. Udesii, gev, mirdir.:_ Listen to the Mand'alor, Commander. Calm down, stop, think.

 _Tion'jor_ : Why?

 _Aliit ori'shya tal'din. Kaysh Kyr'tsad, bid kaysh b'aliit, kaysh be'vod. Kaysh mirsh solus, a kaysh su b'aliit.:_ Family is more than blood. He's Death Watch, so he's your family, he's your brother. He's an idiot, but he's still your family.


	6. Chapter 6

Miik is still too young to do much more for his master than clean and fetch things, and he is good at those things, because when he makes mistakes, his papa doesn't eat. Worse things happen to his papa all the time, but Miik still can't stand seeing him go hungry. So he is good at everything he has to do, good at carrying full loads of supplies, good at starting the fire in the morning, good at setting out his master's clothes and cleaning his master's shoes.

His mama doesn't eat much anyway, just stares , and when his master gets out the whip, she does as she's told. Miik is glad; she looks awful, all the time, and he doesn't want it to be worse for her.

His papa tells him "Remember, boy. I can take it. You can take it. Your mama can't."

His mama tried to hang herself, once. Miik found her and his papa rushed out to cut her down before their master knew. Miik has learned that you do not let the master know anything but what he would like knowing.

Today, the warriors all left . The masters and some of the other slaves, even Miik's papa. That means someone is here - Miik hates his master (although that isn't allowed, so he keeps it to himself), but everyone knows it's worse if people find them. Then they'll all be killed. But they'd come back, rumors spreading of the Republic and a Jedi and Miik remembers what his papa told him: "Jedi are dangerous, Miik."

Some of the other slaves, the ones that are not Zygerrian, talk about wanting the Jedi and the Republic to come save them, and Miik sometimes thinks that that sounds nice, but his papa always tells him they don't want that . It's rule two: we don't want to be found.

After the battle, Miik's master is in a foul mood; he makes Miik get him a glass of whiskey and then shouts at him for pouring it wrong, and not full enough. After some six or seven glasses of it, Miik has long been shaking, head down. His master is the most dangerous when he's had whiskey.

Then Miik trips . He knows better, papa says to watch his step and he always does but his master had left his coat on the floor and Miik's foot tangles in it because he doesn't step high enough, drags his feet, and he falls, spills whiskey all over the coat and oh no . Oh no, he didn't mean to, he knows better, this is why papa gets so upset, why his mama doesn't speak to him, and his master is going to hurt him and he wants to run away.

Miik scrambles to his feet, flattening his ears back against his head and tilting his head back, exposing his throat like he knows his master expects. "'m sorry," he whispers, wanting to cry. He's too old to cry now, he's supposed to be brave enough not to cry. "I didn't mean to, Master, it was an accident ."

"You kriffing worthless little shit," his master snarls, and Miik flinches, the fur on his back standing up, and he tightens his ears against his head. His master pulls the whip out, clumsily, flicks it on and Miik can't help a frightened whimper.

His papa steps in the way, raises his hand, catches the whip. And it's not right , his papa always says you don't fight the masters, you can't, that's rule one . "Papa!" Miik yelps, and the master shoves his papa to the ground and Miik is crying now, even though he's too old and he knows better. He has seen his papa be whipped many, many times, but it's still awful when it's his fault .

"Enough of you," his master says, and Miik whines and closes his eyes as the whip comes down and papa shrieks .

Someone has to help him, has to help his papa and his mama, has to make his master leave them alone . Anyone, just… make him stop hurting my papa, it's my fault, he needs to stop .

The power, the magic that he sometimes has, answers him almost. He could use it. But he tried once and his papa told him no . It's rule number one, you don't hurt the master, you don't fight, you don't do stupid things that could get you killed. Someone help me, help my papa .

Kid?

The magic is talking to him . It's never done that before, it's just power, it doesn't normally talk . Miik reaches out for it and grabs on, hard, tight. Please, please, my papa- if I help him, Master will kill him. You have to help him .

...

Anakin is laying on his stomach, peering over the edge of a rock formation down at the settlement below, when the Force screams, and someone reaches out and latches onto his mind, hard. There's a vague impression of raw terror, a wave of pain, and a babbled message: make him stop hurting my papa, it's my fault, he needs to **stop,** please someone help me, help my papa, and Anakin jerks back a little bit because there's too much.

Kid? he tries, surprised, because this mind feels young and scared, too young for this much fear.

Please, please, my papa-if I help him, Master will kill him. You have to help him .

Anakin swears. There's more, this time, an impression of a young boy, small and scared and guilty, flashes of mama empty-eyed and flinching from a whip, papa saying rule number one, don't fight the masters, and-

Oh, kriff.

"We've got a situation, Snips," he murmurs, scooting back from the edge and looking at his padawan, leaning into Rex's shoulder with her eyes closed. Easy, it's gonna be alright, he sends back to the kid, soothing and careful and soft. What's your name?

Miik, the boy answers. The magic doesn't usually talk back.

I'm not the magic, and Anakin can't help but grin a little, kriff. My name's Anakin, and I can help your papa-just give me a minute to find you, okay?

But… Miik hesitates, and Anakin can feel his fear. Papa says rule number two is we can't ever be found.

Don't worry, Miik. I promise we won't hurt you or your papa or your mama, and then Anakin blinks as an orange hand waves in front of his face. "You in there, Skyguy?"

"Huh?" Oh, very eloquent, Skywalker. Right, problem, there's a problem. "Yeah, so there's a sensitive down there. A slave kid, his name is Miik-I… might have promised to help his papa?"

"A Force-sensitive?" Ahsoka frowns, bites her lip, hesitating. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Snips, I'm sure," he says dryly, rolls his eyes. "Come on, we've got to get down there."

Just hang on, kid. I'm coming.

...

When the sounds of blasterfire start, Miik huddles in the corner by himself and reminds himself someone is coming , someone's actually… someone's coming who, he thinks, won't be in danger if he tries to help. The person in his head, Anakin, doesn't say much, but sometimes he says it's okay and that makes it easier. Especially because his master's locked his papa up, said no food for three days, and Miik thinks the only reason his master has forgotten to do anything to punish him is because of the blasters, and being a little drunk.

Miik should go find his mama and make sure she's alright, but she'll just stare, and not talk, and not react. She probably hasn't even noticed the sounds of fighting.

Rule two is we don't want to be found , and Miik thinks they've been found after all, and he understands that means terrible things for all his people. He thinks the masters deserve that, but his papa had told him that slaves like them wouldn't be safe either.

You're going to be fine , Anakin says, and Miik swallows, stands to leave his corner and go find his mama.

You're still coming? he asks. He's supposed to be braver than that but he's scared anyway.

Yeah, getting there, kid .

That helps. Miik glances around, automatically, for his master, but he's nowhere to be seen, so he scrambles out of the room and down the narrow hallway that leads back to the kitchen and the slaves' quarters. He needs to help his mama, and make sure she's ready to go when Anakin comes. He doesn't know how she'll react, she just acts on autopilot all the time now. He hopes this will fix everything, although the dangerous sounds are closer now and he partly wonders if this is his fault, for talking to Anakin. He didn't exactly mean to break his papa's rule, it had just happened.

He ducks around the kitchen staff, weaving between their legs, and jogs through the door into the room where his mama usually is when she isn't working. She's sitting on her pallet, staring blankly across the room at the wall, and he glances around for his master again before going to her, sitting down in front of her. She's not good at listening anymore. (Miik remembers when he was only five and she used to listen, used to talk more than his papa does.)

"Hey, Mama," he says. "Mama, you have to be ready to listen to me, okay?"

She sort of looks at him, at least. Her ears prick up a little, that's a good sign.

"There's someone coming, they're going to get us and papa and we're going to go. I think." No reaction to that, which Miik supposes was too much to hope for anyway. His mama only listens to the master anymore, really- and then she straightens, tenses, and her ears swivel straight up and forward, which means she's paying attention, but she's not looking at Miik still, so-

"All of you, up," his master growls, and Miik stands with his mama. He wishes he could duck behind her, but she's not as strong as he is, so he doesn't. "You're coming with me. Now. No running."

They know that, Miik thinks. You try running, you get shocked. But he can hear blasters and it's dangerous so maybe that's why they need a reminder. "Come on, Mama," he says, although she listens to the master better than he does, most of the time.

He doesn't know why his master wants so many of them with him, but he knows better than to ask because rule three is you don't speak unless spoken to, and number four is the master is always right. For some reason, the magic doesn't feel safe right now.

Are you coming? He can't help asking again.

Promise, kid. Almost there .

...

Anakin follows the Force to a decent-sized group of Zygerrians on the edge of the settlement, making their way towards the fighting; in the center of the group is a finely-dressed Zygerrian with a blaster and a whip with an engraved handle. With him are a pair of Zygerrians holding plainer whips, collared, and he feels Ahsoka's fear and thinks these must be the guards she and Rex know.

Which isn't good.

The rest of the Zygerrians, five or six of them, are hollow-eyed and dressed in rags, all of them wearing shock collars-and one of them is a little boy no older than eight, pressing close to a woman's side. The Force tugs him towards this one, and Anakin knows instinctively this is Miik, small and scared, his fur light grey with little dark dapples.

There's fire from behind them-Ahsoka spins, ignites her 'sabers, starts deflecting blaster bolts, says, I've got your six, Master, get over there!

Anakin swears under his breath, ignites his own lightsaber, lunges forward. Ignores the master for now, because this is more important. "Hey, you two bastards! You're the assholes who hurt my padawan in Kadavo, aren't you?"

A shock whip hisses to life (and Anakin does not cringe). "Skywalker," the one snarls, smirks a little. "Your padawan screams," and he brandishes the whip, and the other slaves, the lower ones, flinch.

Well, that's enough of that. Anakin bares his teeth, clenches his fist, yanks the whip out of the guard's hand, slices it in half with his 'saber. "You shouldn't taunt me," he snaps, his voice low and dangerous. "I'm not in a very good mood."

"Anakin, if you get yourself injured or killed Kix is going to murder me," Ahsoka shouts, flipping through the air to deflect more blaster bolts.

Anakin rolls his eyes, pointedly ignores her. He aims his 'saber at the master, says, "Slaver scum. Let them go and I might spare your life."

The master laughs, and multiple collars spark to life-including Miik's collar, and he can feel the boy's pain, and-and-rage turns his vision red, and he snarls, clenches both hands into fists and jerks back, collars crumpling off like paper, and he flings them aside, advances forward. "You shouldn't have **done** that."

...

The person in Miik's head is a Jedi? The one person to come help him is a Jedi. Which means it's Miik's fault they've all been found, and maybe Anakin won't help his papa after all. He can… feel Anakin, and Anakin is angry .

He didn't mean to do this, he just wanted someone to help .

Except… except his collar is off, and his mama's, and all of theirs . Which he thinks was because of Anakin, and he's so confused . Anakin is angry , and there are two armored people behind him and it's not as if Miik's never seen armor before, but it's never looked like that and he brought these people here and he doesn't know if that's good.

His master twitches back, and Miik knows the two guards are supposed to protect him and help him keep order, that's the way it works, but they just cower back out of the way. "I gave you a chance, slaver scum," Anakin says, and Miik grabs his mama's hand because she won't run, if something happens, and he has to be ready to pull her away. Anakin? He wishes he knew whether he's done the right thing and he just wants an answer, wants the Jedi to tell him this is all fine.

He doesn't know if Anakin exactly answers , but he thinks he's at least listening.

Then one of the soldiers steps forward, reaches up and pulls off his helmet (and Miik instinctively pulls back because the human's face is worse than his helmet). "His life is mine, Skywalker."

Miik tugs his mama a few steps back, tentatively tries again: Anakin? My papa?

...

We'll get your papa as soon as you're free, Anakin promises, and he locks eyes with Jak, frowns. "Former master?" Jak nods, and Anakin lets him go, because that's true. "Gar serim," he says, nods. "Go, Jak."

The Mandalorian doesn't wait, just nods, pulls out one vibroblade and one blaster, stalks forward, and Anakin takes a deep breath, beckons to Miik with his free hand. "Miik, hey, kid, c'mere, bring your mama. Let's go find your papa." He signals to Bo-Katan with one hand, and she and Elle fly over, land-covering Jak. "Rex, Snips, with me."

...

Miik isn't sure going with Anakin is a good idea, really, but the Jedi wants to find his papa and the human soldier with the awful face has a blaster and a sword and Miik thinks he's more afraid of him than he is of Anakin, who feels a little less angry now. The other Jedi comes too, and the other soldier, and Miik wants to go back to his corner until all this stops , but he wants his papa more. So he tugs on his mama's hand and takes a careful step after Anakin, the magic telling him he should not look back .

"Master usually locks people up on the second floor," he says quietly, points at his master's house and the slave quarters. His papa has gotten locked up a few times, and it's always been Miik's fault, so he knows.

It's gonna be okay, Anakin says to him, and Miik tries to keep his ears from twitching, his fur from standing on end. He just isn't sure . We need to go, kid, come on . Then Anakin presses a button, and his lightsaber shuts off, which Miik thinks is good.

"Okay," he says, glancing nervously at the soldier and the other Jedi. His mama's hand tightens on his when he starts walking, pulling her with him, but she follows. She's not doing so well, not after being shocked, she never is , but that happens a lot and Miik thinks he can get them both at least back to the buildings.

Hey, kid, you don't feel good. You shouldn't be walking , Anakin says, and Miik makes a face, just a small one. What does Anakin know, Miik thinks, this is fine for now. He can sit down when he gets back to the house so he's not as tired, and then they can go get his papa. Maybe Anakin will have to help his mama, she's not as strong as him, but still.

You said we had to go , he says, walking a little faster because the power says he needs to, and because he's nervous. Not scared. Just nervous.

We do. You still shouldn't be walking, Miik. Neither should your mama .

I know, stup- I mean, I know. Miik isn't good at talking in his head, he decides. It's much harder to say things right .

Then all of a sudden, Anakin is crouching down and touching his shoulder, and Miik holds tighter to his mama's hand although this isn't bad, he thinks . "How about my friend Ahsoka here takes your mama somewhere safe, where we can help her, and I carry you and you show me where your papa is?"

Miik can not let his mama go somewhere without him, his papa would be angry , and it isn't safe. Even if Anakin is safe, his mama would be terrified . "No," he says, stronger than he's supposed to, but Anakin isn't mad at him for practically calling him stupid, so…

"She'll be safe, and Ahsoka can help her get some sleep so she isn't scared," Anakin says, very gently, and Miik hesitates. The other Jedi, Ahsoka, looks nice, Miik decides - he still definitely isn't sure about the soldier, and his papa isn't going to be happy, but Miik's stomach hurts and his mama isn't doing so well, so… so maybe it's okay.

Do you promise she'll be okay? Miik asks.

I promise , Anakin says, and Miik isn't sure how he knows, but he's certain Anakin means the promise.

Okay . Miik pulls his hand out of his mama's and pats her arm. "Look, Mama, I'm going to get Papa, and then I'll be back, okay?" It won't help her much, he thinks, but her ears flick which means she probably heard.

The other Jedi touches his mama's hand, and Miik doesn't want to leave her because they help his mama first , that's not even a rule, it's just the way it is, but he thinks, hopes , this will help.

...

Anakin bends down a little, slips his arms around Miik and lifts the kid up, settling him onto one hip. Meanwhile, Ahsoka murmurs "Sleep," her voice heavy with the Force, and she catches the Zygerrian woman when she crumples. I'll get her to Kix and be back, she tells him silently, and Anakin nods his thanks.

Miik rests his chin on Anakin's shoulder, and then there's a bolt of fear, quickly stifled, and the kid hides his face. It's Rex, Anakin thinks, all in armor and bucket on, and he sends reassurance. He's not gonna hurt you, promise.

Miik pulls back from his mind a little, his thoughts focusing on papa, and Anakin sighs, adjusts his hold on the small boy and starts for the buildings, Rex behind him. (He doesn't look back at Jak and the slaver, he doesn't want to see it.) The house is mostly empty, and Miik points him to the stairs quickly enough; upstairs, there are several narrow, barren rooms, windowless. One of them is locked. Hang on, kid, and Anakin shifts Miik to his left side so he can pull out his 'saber. He closes his eyes, feels for the Force-there's a Force-signature in one of the rooms, and he lets the Force guide him there, stops outside it.

What are you doing?

Opening the door, Anakin says, and ignites his 'saber. Miik feels scared, and Anakin soothes the kid instinctively, even as he slices the door completely off its hinges, Force-shoves it to the ground. "See?" He puts his 'saber back away, smiles.

On the floor is a Zygerrian man, fresh whip burns on his back and arm and side, and he looks-a mixture of terrified and relieved. "Miik!" he says, desperate and eager and scared, "Miik, what are you doing with a Jedi-"

"He's Force-sensitive," Anakin interrupts, and he crooks his hand into a claw and pulls the man's collar off. "He asked for help and I heard him. Rex, get him up." He presses his wristcomm, says, "How's it looking out there, Mand'alor?"

"Mostly just cleanup left," Bo-Katan says easily. "Could use one of you jetii to get their collars off-"

"Ask Kix."

"Kix went back with Tano."

Kriff. "I'm busy," Anakin complains sharply, "just… hang on, I'll have Snips help you. Any word on Grievous?"

"I've been a bit busy," Bo-Katan snarks, and he sighs. That's true, but…

"Keep an eye on Jak," Anakin says, and then turns back to Rex (who's got his bucket off and clipped to his belt, the Zygerrian leaning against his shoulder). "Let's get back, these guys need the medbay, and probably some food."

...

Rex nods, feels the Zygerrian he's supporting stiffen. He wants to get out of here, wants to find Soka and curl up in his quarters and hide from all of this , from all the marks from whips, from the scarring on the poor child's neck where maybe he won't grow fur again, from the guards who know exactly what it takes to break him and his Jedi.

The boy is brave , Rex thinks, and that's good. The boy's father may be too, but right now Rex thinks he might actually try not to leave and that makes no sense.

"Come on," Anakin says, and Rex gives himself a shake and pushes himself to a steady walk, takes as much of the Zygerrian's weight as he will allow (Rex's instincts cannot agree on whether this is a slave or a slaver, whether he should protect or fight, and it's making him anxious ).

There are still sounds from outside, but less; Rex had known this battle would be short, but it still feels strange that it was.

I want to be home, Soka, he thinks, wearily.

There's a soft twist of agreement. This is such a disaster, all of it, she thinks.

I know. Rex thinks it should feel better that they're freeing slaves , but everything here feels wrong wrong wrong and everywhere he turns something reminds him of old pain.

But the little boy, Miik, just a scrap of a thing with his big blue eyes - Rex is glad that, if they've done nothing else good today, they've helped him and his mother.

And they've killed his master, which Rex thinks he will not speak to Jak about. Jak Ordo is not safe, today.

The colony is clear when they walk outside (and Rex feels the Zygerrian tense again), which means the battle is over and they've gotten the slaves out. What they're going to do with a whole colony of Zygerrian (and a few other sentients) slaves, Rex doesn't know, but he at least knows it wasright to do this.

Miik looks at him again over Anakin's shoulder, and Rex smiles. The kid doesn't smile back, but he also doesn't bury his face in Anakin's shoulder, so that's an improvement anyway.

The transport is waiting for them at the edge of the pit, and Rex is all too happy to climb on, help the slave he's supporting to grab onto one of the overhead straps with both hands. He leaves one hand on the man's shoulder so he won't fall, even though he doesn't think even that is welcome. Too bad. The Zygerrian's going to fall otherwise.

...

Anakin adjusts his grip on Miik so he can grab onto one of the overhead handles; he sends a brief thought to Ahsoka, asking her to head back down into the colony and pull collars from slaves (she flinches a little, he thinks, doesn't seem very eager to do so, and he thinks Obi-Wan is going to end up doing it himself), tries not to think of Jak's anger and the way the Force had convulsed.

Instead, he starts talking, trying to stave off the thoughts he doesn't want to think about. "How old are you, Miik?"

The boy shifts, says, "Eight," very quietly, and Anakin makes himself ignore the kid's father.

Eight. Kriff, poor thing. "You know, I used to be a slave too," Anakin says conversationally, tries to hide the way his throat chokes closed on the words. "To the Hutts, and then to Watto," but he was basically the Hutts, really. "My mom and I lived on Tatooine. It's really sandy there, and hot.The Jedi came when I was nine and found me, brought me back to the Temple."

Miik blinks up at him. Oh, he thinks quietly, flattening his ears a little and looking over at his papa, uncertain. The older Zygerrian looks… nervous, looks angry, looks like he does not appreciate Anakin at all. Kriff. So he keeps talking.

"Ahsoka and Rex, here," and he nods at the Captain, "were captured by some of the masters and put in Kadavo-a processing facility. The queen made me her slave, for a while." He looks over Miik's head, locks eyes with his father. "We understand what it's like, to be slaves."

...

Rex thinks, very quickly, that somehow Anakin has said the wrong thing when the Zygerrian shudders and twitches away from him a little, and Rex has the sense to take his hand away, even though the Zygerrian isn't at all steady on his feet. The man casts him a fearful look, then looks back at Miik, clinging tight to Anakin, and Rex's instincts tell him they've made a mistake.

"Leave him out of this," the man says, voice cracking although he's clearly trying to sound strong. "Whatever sick game this is, don't make him part of it."

"Papa?" Miik says, and his ears twist back against his head, which even Rex can tell means he's worried .

But Rex understands now, and he steps past the man (can practically feel him flinch), says quietly to Anakin, "General, I think you better put him down."

Anakin looks confused, although his eyes dart from Miik to his father and then back, and Rex thinks it won't take him long to figure it out. "Now, sir," Rex says, more urgently, because they're going to panic the man and if he panics so will Miik and maybe the rest of the slaves on this transport.

But Anakin clearly doesn't want to let the kid out of his arms, which alright, Rex understands, but the boy's father looks like he's barely holding it together, so Rex turns back to him and meets his eyes, steps away from Anakin a little. Miik's father doesn't hold his gaze (and part of Rex is glad, because making eye contact with the Zygerrians means you get hurt), so Rex sighs and steps close enough to him that he can talk in a low voice, not so close that he's a threat. "We're not playing games here, vod . We're not gonna do anything to your kid, okay? Or you. Take it easy."

That gets him a defiant sneer, almost a baring of teeth, and Rex thinks that's at least good, that the man has this much fight left in him. "Then where's my wife? What'd you do to her, she's never been a slaver, she's not part of this ."

Haar'chak , Rex forgot about that. They just need to get this one to a med bay, but he can't be panicking between times - Rex looks back at Miik and the boy looks like he's starting to panic .

"I sent her back ahead of us with my padawan," Anakin says, with a calm Rex has only heard in his voice a couple times - it's bordering on Force-suggestion, Rex thinks. "She needed medical attention because your master shocked her."

"He promised she'd be safe, Papa," Miik says, a little tremulously, and the Zygerrian closes his eyes briefly and Rex decides he's got to figure this out because to a kid, a promise is a promise , but to this man, it's barely even a consideration.

"Alright, vod, come here." Rex gestures, doesn't touch the man although he wants to offer support, and they take a few steps away into the transport, although the Zygerrian clearly doesn't want to get further from his son. "What's your name?" He remembers how that had helped Ahsri, helped him . Names.

"Zarak," the Zygerrian says, tense, and Rex sighs, nods.

"Okay. Look, Zarak, I don't really like your people." It's an understatement, doesn't even begin to cover the anger and pain and visceral fear. "But I swear on my life, your family is safe. We got you out because we know no one deserves this," he raises a hand to his neck, pulls down the collar of his blacks, "least of all children. So calm down. "

Zarak still doesn't look alright with this, exactly, but Rex thinks he somehow did something right because the man nods and some of the sharp tension shifts out of his shoulders.

...

The clone's scars are all-too-familiar; they are the scars of Zarak's own slaves, once upon a time, the scars he knows he would see on himself, now, were he to glance into a mirror. The Jedi doesn't have such scars-but he'd said, the queen's slave, and Zarak doesn't think the queen would have wished to mar such a handsome human slave with scars from prolonged punishment. No, she would've used something else against the Jedi, something not physical, because all Zygerrians know of the Jedi's famed will. It is, or so the stories say, the will of the Jedi that allows them to perform feats such as moving great structures with their minds, such as enslaving another's thoughts to their own, such as continuing long past their bodies' natural limitations. Such a will isn't easily broken.

Zarak would be a fool to trust these men, no matter the clone's scars, no matter the fact that the soldier willingly bared his throat (though Zarak doesn't think this one, Rex he had been called, is being submissive-he thinks Rex is establishing them as equals, which is a strange thought). No, he will not trust them, not until he sees his Alari with his own eyes, determines her to be safe and unharmed. Then, he and the Jedi will have a serious discussion, because he's Force-sensitive, and he knows what happens to Force-sensitive children when the Jedi find them.

And he, Zarak Iscem, will not lose his son.

Zarak pushes past the clone, though he is weak and his legs shake from the effort, stops in front of the Jedi. He recognizes this Jedi's face, from the holos (a slave he may be, but he has made certain to stay informed). "General Anakin Skywalker," he says. "They call you the Hero With No Fear."

Skywalker inclines his head, but though he appears calm, his arms tighten around Miik. (If he wasn't a Jedi, Zarak would think him to be protective,almost.) "I hate that name," he says, and Zarak tilts his head to one side, keeps his expression even, though he can feel the fur on the back of his neck (or what's left of it) rising. "It makes me sound like some kind of-legend, something superhuman." His face twists with distaste.

"You are a Jedi," Zarak points out.

Skywalker snorts. "Yeah, I am. And my two worst failings as a Jedi are my attachments and how much I'm afraid of losing them." As he speaks, the Jedi's arms tighten around Miik again, and Zarak narrows his eyes.

That is his son.

And then he frowns, his ears perking a little without him meaning to. "What do you mean, your attachments are your greatest failing?" He knows very little about the Jedi, admittedly, has never cared to know, especially after what the Jedi and the Republic had done to Zygerria herself perhaps a year ago, but he doesn't understand how so-called attachments can be a failing.

Skywalker smiles a little, a wry twist of his lips. "There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force." The words have the weight of ritual to them, the familiar, easy cadence of something long memorized. "The Jedi Code," Skywalker continues. "Jedi are to exist in the world, yet remain untouched by it; we aren't supposed to cultivate attachment, especially that of a romantic nature, so that we may have compassion for the whole of the galaxy equally, and weight no one single life greater than any others, greater than our duty." He still almost sounds like he's recitingsomething, a teaching oft heard, perhaps. And then he lowers his voice, smirks a bit (Zarak forces himself not to recoil), as though he's imparting some great secret: "Not that any of that stopped my wife and I."

His-wife?

Skywalker's face goes somber, grave, blue eyes intense. "When I tell you I understand how afraid you are, right now, I'm telling the truth. I will not hurt your family. None of my men will." He pauses, then adds, "Though I'd be careful of the Mandalorians. We still don't know how loyal they are."

All Zarak can do is nod, is think, this Jedi has a wife. This one has a family, this one has been a slave, this one understands what it is like to fear."What happened to your mother?" he asks, voice soft, and he hadn't meant to ask the question but this Jedi holds his son like the most precious thing in the galaxy.

Skywalker's face goes tight, his voice flat. "She was kidnapped by raiders," he says, simple, clinical, detached. "By the time I learned something was wrong, it was too late. I found her and cut her down just in time for her to die in my arms."

Zarak looks at his son, at this Jedi, thinks of I sent her back ahead of us with my padawan, she needed medical attention because your master shocked her, and he swallows, hard, suddenly finds it difficult to breathe. These are not the actions of a man seeking revenge.

No, this is a man attempting to make sure no one else suffers the same pains as he, and at this moment, Zarak thinks there is no safer place for his son to be than in this Jedi's arms.

...

Miik watches his papa, because he's begun to think he's done something very wrong, very bad, because his papa seems scared and Miik can't totally understand what he and Anakin are talking about. But Anakin had promised and Miik had known that Anakin meant it.

When Anakin says his mama is dead , though, Miik frowns and presses his face into Anakin's shoulder again. I'm sorry your mama died, Miik thinks.

Thanks, kid .

Then Miik hears his papa sigh, and that usually means Miik's done something stupid or his mama isn't answering, again, or he's tired, so Miik picks his head up from Anakin's shoulder and looks at his papa, bites the inside of his cheek and hopes he's not in trouble. But Papa just shakes his head a little at Miik, and that probably means he's in for a scolding, but not in trouble , which is good.

Then the ship jolts , and Miik doesn't mean to but he ducks his head back into Anakin's shoulder, hears everyone else murmur a little. You good to go, kid? We'll get you to your mom , Anakin says, and Miik nods, doesn't want to look up.

Anakin starts walking, and Miik reminds himself they're going to his mama, and his papa is here, so this is fine. Peeking up, just for a second, from Anakin's shoulder, he sees the soldier, Rex, with his arm around his papa, staying close to him, and his papa smiles at Miik just a little. So it's fine, probably.

Everything slowly becomes sound , people talking, loud feet, metal clanging and sharp, barked orders, and Miik needs to be brave but he shivers because it's so loud and when he looks up his papa doesn't look like he thinks this is a good idea and Miik wants to go back and sit in his corner and not move .

Hey, bud, take it easy. Miik suddenly feels calm and a little sleepy, and it's nice, it helps. We're almost back to your mama, okay? But there are gonna be a lot of people .

Miik doesn't want a lot of people, at all, and this feels like such a big mistake , but he swallows and shifts so he's more upright, so he can look at his papa and make sure this is still okay .

Papa nods and kind of smiles, and that helps a little, that means this is at least not bad . Rex smiles again too, and Miik can't decide how he feels about him, so he just looks back at Anakin and thinks, I don't like this .

Yeah, I know. Sorry .

Miik wants to go home, kind of, because home was awful but at least he knew how it worked. This is all too new and there are soldiers everywhereand humans and there's a room ahead of him that's full of the sounds of people scared and hurting, and the magic tells him that there's a lot of pain that way and Miik doesn't like that.

Your mama is in there, Miik, okay? And Anakin walks towards that room, and Miik digs his claws into Anakin's shoulder, accidentally, making the Jedi hiss a little. Oh no, oops.

Sorry! he thinks, a little frantically, and Anakin hums, out loud, almost like Miik remembers his mama used to do, before everything got worse.

It's okay, really. They go through the door into the room and Miik cranes his head, looking for Mama (and he sees the man with the awful face glowering near the wall, with the other Jedi, Ahsoka, next to him. Miik thinks there's blood on the soldier's arms, and when he notices that Anakin quickly says, "Hey, Miik, look, your mama is over there."

Miik forgets the soldier in a hurry, stretches as high up as he can and follows Anakin's pointing finger to see his mama, lying on a bed, sleeping and not looking nearly as worried as she usually does when she's asleep.

"Mama!" he says, louder than he means to, and wriggles out of Anakin's grasp (also without quite meaning to) and runs across the floor.

"Miik!" his papa yells , and he stops , winces, slows down until his papa and Rex catch up to him, dropping his ears and tilting his head to apologize. He knows better. "What do we say, Miik?" his papa says, softly, and Miik sighs.

"I know, sorry. Rule five, we stay together." Miik has broken a lot of Papa's rules today.

"Okay." His papa straightens, and Miik scoots back to grab onto his hand and pull because alright, they stay together, but he wants to get to Mama now .

...

Ahsoka straightens, looks up, when she senses Anakin enter the medbay; Jak is mostly nonresponsive, anyway, locked up in his own head. There are crimson bloodstains splashed bright and fresh across his armor, and his single grey eye is laser-sharp focused on some distant thing. She doesn't really want to know what he's seeing (doesn't want to know what could cause so much rage, so much violence).

Besides, Anakin is back, with a pair of Zygerrians, one of them the little boy, Miik-the other an older man she suspects to be Miik's father. That's not what she's most interested in, though: behind Anakin is Rex, shoulders slumped a little, helmet clipped to his belt, half-supporting the older Zygerrian. She smiles a little (can feel the way the memories are circling his mind like loth-wolves intent on their prey), pushes herself off the wall she's leaning against, strides across the medbay, careful to avoid the suddenly appearing obstacle of just over a meter of excited Zygerrian cub.

Hey, Rex, she thinks, stepping to his free side, noticing the way the Zygerrian flinches a little. "Your wife is just over there," she says, indicates the corner. "Kix did some work on her, but he'll want to look at you." The guy has multiple fresh whip burns across his back and shoulders and arm and side, and he looks weak, exhausted.

Hey, 'Soka, Rex sends back, and she follows him as he helps the Zygerrian over to the corner of the medbay and into a plastoid chair.

As soon as his arms are free, she tugs Rex into a hug, presses her face into his neck and closes her eyes, projects warmth and love and reassurance, chases away the memories. There are too many Zygerrians here, she admits quietly, takes a shaky breath. She knows these ones aren't guards, necessarily, aren't going to hurt her, can't take Rex away, she knows they have no power over her, but every time she accidentally meets a pair of slanted, sharp eyes her scars burn, phantom pain stabbing through her hands from wounds a year old.

She knows Rex understands, better than anyone else could, and she wraps herself in his love, luxuriates in the safety of his arms solid and steady around her.

...

Rex sighs and closes his eyes, tries not to hug Ahsoka too tight because his armor will dig into her skin, but he's struggling, and she's safety. Being with his General had made it easier, not to mind so much, and he can still see some of his men here being treated or making sure all the chaos stays controlled and no one gets violent, but there are still so many sharp faces here, gold eyes, and he knows these people were slaves too, but that doesn't really change anything. Or at least, not enough. Hells, he can barely even manage looking at Zarak .

I know this was right, he thinks, wearily, but it feels like a mistake, Soka. I don't… don't want them here . That's selfish, probably, but Rex has wanted nothing more than to run since the got here and it's no easier now.

I know. Me neither , she admits, and he sighs, traces some of the scars on her back headtail and swallows.

Are the mando'ade doing okay? Jak? Rex doesn't really trust the Mandalorians with this; the 501st and the 212th will obey their orders and not hurt the slaves, but he knows the Death Watch will do what they want, and Jak worries him.

I don't know, Jak is scaring me, Ahsoka says, projects a snippet of memory of how angry and dangerous Jak had felt.

Rex sighs and opens his eyes again, catches Anakin's gaze and attempts something like a smile. The kid is really cute, Rex thinks. Anakin likes him.

Ahsoka snorts and pulls back a little, locking her fingers around the back of his neck, and she grins although her eyes still look haunted. Rex tries to ease love over her thoughts, to keep her focused on him and on right now. That would be easier if he wasn't struggling himself. Yeah, he seems sweet, Soka says, and Rex twists and follows her eyes to Miik sitting on his mother's bunk, stick-thin legs pulled up to his chest, his ragged shirt pulled over his knees.

Zarak is looking at them and Rex wants desperately to yank away from Ahsoka and back off because this isn't allowed , but Zarak just looks exhausted and he's holding his wife's hand, so Rex reminds himself this is fine, this is safe.

I like him too , Rex thinks. He'd much rather have left his helmet on, but the kid had been scared , and Rex had known it was more important for that boy to feel safe than for him to feel a little more comfortable. His father is… not so bad. I think. Rex doesn't like Zarak exactly, but at least the Zygerrian clearly cares about his family, and Rex understands that, at least.

...

Ahsoka hums a bit, nods, stretches up onto her tiptoes to kiss him-lightly, since they're in the middle of a crowd of strangers. She pulls back, traces her fingers over the worried creases in his face, as though she could soothe them away by her touch alone. I'm sure he's… okay, she says, carefully, but I just… I don't know, Rex.

Rex sighs, pulls one hand from around her to ghost over the white markings on her face, and she closes her eyes, leans into his touch. I know, cyare, I know. We'll be okay, though. We're safe. He sounds like he's trying to convince himself just as much as he is her.

Just… stay with me, she thinks, tries not to plead, opening her eyes and looking up at him. I don't-being alone isn't a good-I don't trust myself.She remembers Agruss, how she so easily fell into that cold cold anger, hatred, killing without remorse, laughing while she did it, so easy, so powerful, so fluid, and she shudders, closes her eyes tight and swallows hard around a whimper.

Shh, 'Soka, Rex hums softly, and he presses his forehead against hers. You won't snap, you won't turn on them. I trust you.

But how do you **know?** she asks, shaky, sucks in a shuddering breath and tries to forget the ice.

Because I know you, and he pulls back, presses light kisses to each of her montrals, to her forehead.

"Excuse me, but how exactly are you communicating with each other?"

For a moment, the only thing that registers is Zygerrian, and Ahsoka freezes, flinches, snaps around with one hand already going to her belt, because no, she can't, she won't, they can't take this too-but Rex soothes soft reassurance and warm love over her thoughts, and she lets out a trembling sigh, closes her eyes briefly, leans into Rex's shoulder, leaves him to answer.

She doesn't think she can.

...

Rex keeps a hum of peace easing across the bond and looks at Zarak, regrets a little the sudden fear on the Zygerrian's face, because Rex knows Ahsoka going for her saber will have been a little too much. He doesn't particularly want to explain because if he does he could lose it but that's not true anymore. Rex threads his fingers through Soka's hand that still hovers over her sabers and sighs.

"There's… we can talk in each other's thoughts," he says, sounds more anxious than he wishes he did. Soka tightens her fingers in his. "And she isn't going to hurt you, remember, I promised we wouldn't, Zarak." The Zygerrian never promised anything, though.

"You can do that too?" Miik says, eagerly, then very quickly drops his head and winces because Zarak gives him a sharp look. Rex soothes his hand over Ahsoka's montrals and smiles at Miik.

"Yeah, kid."

"What do you mean too ?" Zarak growls, and Rex does not like that voice. Soka doesn't either, at all, and she presses closer to Rex, her hand going shaky in his, and Rex holds her tighter, feels Anakin's thoughts a little bit as his General tries to help soothe Soka. That will help, Rex thinks.

Miik's ears twitch a little and droop, and he rubs his nose. "Well, I… I don't know, Papa, but I can talk to Anakin without actually talking. I didn't mean to, but it's kind of cool."

Zarak actually bares his teeth at Anakin, he's actually angry , and Rex glances at Anakin, who winces a little and holds his hands out, almost like don't blame me . "Stay out of my son's head , Jedi ," and Rex thinks Zarak's body language says he's scared, but he just sounds dangerous and if Rex is being honest, that's fair, completely, but Ahsoka goes so, so still except for the trembling and Rex shifts his focus off Zarak, tries to soothe her a little.

"I didn't get in his head," Anakin says, carefully. "He reached out to me, I just answered."

Zarak pushes himself to his feet, and Rex automatically steps back, tugs Ahsoka with him. " Bantha shit, Jedi. What reason do I have to believe you?" and it's harsh and threatened and desperate and Rex doesn't have quite the control to be able to keep from flinching, much less to keep pressing calm through Ahsoka's thoughts, and when Zarak speaks she tenses and there's a general impression of no, too much in her mind.

"Rex," she says, soft and anxious, and she's starting to breathe fast and Rex shifts so he's a little between her and Zarak, although that feels so, so wrong. "Rex, I can't, I can't do this ."

"Okay," Rex says gently, quickly, swallowing and moving again so he's totally blocking her from Zarak's view. He curls himself around her, slides into her thoughts and pulls up tighter shields. Okay, cyare, you're okay. I have you. We can go, it'll be fine .

...

She doesn't mean to start crying, really she doesn't. But the ambient Force of the medbay is packed full of anger and rage and fear and disgust and pain, and even with strong shields she can't block it all totally out, and her instincts are screaming that she's got her back to an entire room full of hostiles, and she's spent a while now trying to talk Jak down, even though that's been a futile task. And with the Zygerrian, Zarak, being angry, it's all just too much.

Her shoulders are shaking, her breaths ragged and too fast, and there are tears spilling down her cheeks, and her muscles are caught between a desperate need to flee, to run, and the instinct to freeze, because stillness is safety, stillness is unthreatening, is safe, is don't look at me, and she-she can't-

"Rex," she gasps out again, trying desperately to pull her thoughts together, but she can't manage it, everything's too scattered and fragmented and a part of her hears the way the Zygerrian's (Zarak, his name is Zarak) voice growls and he's standing and she can't keep from panicking, from cringing away, please don't master please don't, but this isn't Kadavo, she has to remember, this isn't-this is the Resolute, she's safe here-but the Zygerrian moves and she can't stifle a soft whimper, a bolt of terror, and she presses her face into Rex's chest and shakes.

"Rex, get her out of here," Anakin says, sharply, pushes a wave of calm, of reassurance, at her, but there's too much spiraling around and-and she's hyperventilating and, and, "Snips, calm down."

The Force flows over her, rippling and soft and calm, fluid, and she struggles to breathe around it, shakes her head, because someone behind her moves and there's a spike of adrenaline, something in her hissing never turn your back to an enemy, and she can't breathe, she can't, she can't, please help me Rex please I can't stop-

Easy, 'Soka, Rex soothes, and she clings desperately to his mind like he's a rock in the ocean, something steady to grab onto as waves of panic buffet her. Easy, cyare, I've got you, and his arms are around her-she's moving-he's picking her up, and she buries her head in his chest, even though the plastoid of his armor is uncomfortable, grabs onto his pauldron so hard she feels plastoid crack beneath her fingers. (She thinks maybe the Force is helping.)

She can't breathe.

It feels like she's choking on the maelstrom of thoughts tumbling around her mind, knotting up in her throat and keeping her from getting a full breath in, and she hears someone-Anakin-say, "Go, Rex," and then he's moving, and she flinches and presses her face harder against him. Someone else says something but she can't understand the words, there's too much, and she's so tired of holding up so many shields and there's too much seeping in and she can't breathe, there's black spots around the edge of her vision when she opens her eyes, colors swirling across the backs of her eyelids, and she grabs desperately at Rex, I can't, can't breathe, please, please help!

She can't.

...

Rex lets Ahsoka keep gripping his pauldron as he hurries out of the medbay, although he thinks he'll need a new one after this, but that's not exactly important just now. Rex tries to keep his shields around her thoughts, doesn't run because if he runs he thinks he'll make it worse and he won't be able to focus enough to keep projecting - he gave up on projecting calm and he's trying love, because he thinks that helps more, but he doesn't know and she doesn't feel right. He needs to get her back to his quarters, away from this mess.

And he needs to get her breathing right, because she's heaving for breath but it doesn't seem to be helping and she's sobbing , so he takes a risk and shuts out everything but the most basic awareness of where he is and presses into her thoughts, to the part of her that's clinging desperately to his mind, so hard it almost hurts , and he doesn't try to calm her down (Anakin had tried and that hadn't worked), just thinks **breathe** , Soka . The rhythm of his own breathing isn't the best either, he's in too much of a hurry and too worried, but it's a better pace than hers, so he puts his fingers over hers on his pauldron. Breathe with me, okay? He has to repeat that a few times, pushing a little awareness at her, before she seems to pick up on it, and she shifts her hand from his shoulder to his chest.

"Okay, that's good, you're okay," he says, more or less not thinking about it. He's back to his quarters by the time her breathing has actually evened out to match his, and he eases back from her thoughts just enough that he can actually get the door open, get them inside. He manages to toe his boots off, but he can't get rid of any more armor without letting go of Soka and he's not doing that, not now that she's actually breathing okay, and she needs him . "Can we lay down, is that okay?" There isn't much of a response, just her holding on even tighter to his mind (and now that definitely hurts but he has other priorities), so he takes that as a yes and gets in bed, tries to shift her a little in his arms so it's more comfortable for her, except she just kind of whimpers and grabs his arm with her free hand. "Okay," Rex says, knows she probably isn't really listening . He settles back against the wall at the head of the bed and tightens his arms around her. He's really not sure whether this is helping, especially since he's still in full armor, and she's still crying and not really focusing. "That wasn't great," he sighs, kisses her lightly on the forehead. "Actually, this is all really awful. But we're kind of okay now, it's just me." He wants to add and I'm kriffing scared but that is the oppositeof helpful.

He lets go of her with one arm, leans forward, grabs the blanket and pulls it over both of them because at least that might be more comfortable than just him and his armor. "You should maybe just go to sleep," he sighs, traces the patterns on her headtails. "Hells, I should go to sleep." Talking helps him, if not her. He's worried and he feels a little isolated and everything is awful. Kriff all of this.

* * *

Miik doesn't know what's happening, really, except this is all really bad . His papa was angry, and now Anakin feels angry, and Rex and the other Jedi, Ahsoka are gone because it almost seems like Ahsoka was sick and he's not sure what he's supposed to do.

"It really was me, I think, Papa," he says, tentatively, twisting his hands together. "I was just scared."

His papa looks over at him and Miik doesn't understand why he looks so scared suddenly, but his ears are flat and he's got his throat bared to Anakin and Miik thinks it's because Anakin is angry . Suddenly Miik thinks he understands why Anakin is mad, feels like maybe Ahsoka was terrified and Anakin doesn't want that.

"That was your fault," Anakin growls, and Miik's papa flinches, just a little.

Anakin, don't, Miik thinks, although he doesn't mean to - thinking is so much harder to control, Miik is better at talking out loud. Or not talking at all. I'm sorry, I- Please don't?

Anakin grits his teeth, stares at Miik's papa, but he feels a little less upset. "You should have seen," Anakin says, more quietly, and shakes his head and looks away.

Papa swallows and sits back down, his ears staying down. Miik doesn't like this. He grabs his mama's shirt and sighs. Anakin, what was wrong with her? Ahsoka?

Anakin pinches his weird human nose and takes a step back, away from his papa, which is good because Papa doesn't look good to Miik. She was really scared, Miik, sometimes… Look, kid, Zygerrians freak her out.

Oh. Well, Jedi freak Miik out, and apparently his Papa too. Why?

I told you, some of your masters made her into a slave.

Okay . Miik thinks he understands that, because he is terrified of his master most of the time. That's not Papa's fault .

I **know.**

Miik's papa still looks bad, so Miik scrambles off the bunk and onto Papa's lap, tucks his knees back under his chin.

"We should get them both food," someone says, the soldier that had come over when Ahsoka panicked. Miik thinks this human has cool markings on his head, and for some reason he also thinks he's nice . Not that he knows, but the magic says so, and Miik thinks the magic usually knows what it's doing. Usually.

Also, food sounds like the best idea . Miik hasn't eaten his meal for the day yet and he's glad someone has thought of that. I am hungry , he volunteers, carefully. I haven't eaten yet today .

...

Ahsoka curls tight around Rex's arm, still sobbing against him; she can feel his fingers running along her headtails, tracing out patterns, and she thinks vaguely that that should feel more comforting than it does. He's talking, something about sleeping, and she doesn't want to sleep, she just-she-

She doesn't know what she wants, doesn't really know much, just that there's too much in her thoughts, and-

And she thinks she's hurting Rex.

Ahsoka pulls back from his mind, just a tiny bit, tries to stop pressing so hard into his thoughts, though it's hard, and she lets the rhythm of his words, his hands on her back, his breathing (and she has to match it, has to, he said to breathe with me), lull her into a state of almost false-security. She's not calm, at all, but she's at least… she's no longer spiraling down into endless panic. Still, she can't stop the tears, can't stop crying, and that's almost enough to send her back into the storm, but Rex soothes love over her mind, hums it's okay, Soka, it's okay, and she chokes a breath in and sobs and sobs and sobs.

This isn't Kadavo.

Somehow, she can't quite convince her body of that; maybe it's the position, curled up against Rex with a blanket around them, the Zygerrians all over the ship, the Force still heavy with pain and anger. But she's still somehow hyperaware of everything, ready to bolt, and she thinks Rex feels that because he keeps very still, no sudden movements. I love you, she thinks, because that's the only solid ground, that's the only thing she knows, the only thing that makes sense, I love you, love you, love you…

He holds her close, still talking (she's not sure what he's saying, not paying attention to the words-he's slipped into Mando'a now, a steady stream of liquid syllables), the steady rhythm reassuring, comforting, and she shakes in his arms and tries to breathe and cries and clings to his arm. (I'm here, I'm here, I've got you, you're safe, cyare, nothing's going to hurt you.)

* * *

Food, right, that's a good idea. Anakin sighs, resists the urge to check on Ahsoka, nods. "Yeah, thanks, Kix. Can you-" and he gestures vaguely with one hand, scrubs the other across his face.

"No, I can't," Kix snaps, his voice edged with sharp stress. "I'm a bit busy," and he huffs out a sigh. "Couldn't we have waited to do this until after Grievous?"

Anakin winces. It's not like he had much of a choice. "I'd like to see you try and stop kriffing Jak Ordo," he snaps back, and then groans, grits his teeth. None of them are handling this well, and he can feel Ahsoka's panic leaking across their bond, and the ambient Force of the medbay is thickwith negative emotions, and… kriff. He's going to end up in the same boat as his former padawan if he doesn't get it together. "Sorry, Kix," and he lets out a long breath, runs his hands through his hair. "I'm… yeah."

"I know, vod," and Kix groans too. "The Force is…"

"Yeah." Anakin looks over at Miik. Do you feel it too, kid?

Miik nods, his ears flattening a little bit. Can we go somewhere else?

"Yeah, come on, we can go to the mess." And then he hesitates. "If that's okay with your papa. We'll all feel better away from this." (Away from Jak, who is an awful knot of anger and pain and hatred in the corner.)

Zarak doesn't really look pleased, but he glances down at his wife and then nods once, shortly, and Anakin breathes out a sigh of relief. "Come on, you two, let's get you some food."

"Bring him back after," Kix calls out, already crossing the medbay to do something else. "I want to get some bacta on those burns."

"Copy that," Anakin says, smiles down at Miik, tries to push away the nervousness in the pit of his stomach. (Ahsoka is still panicking.) "Do you want me to carry you, or are you okay to walk, Miik?"

...

Miik just wants to get some food and get away from all the awful feelings in this room, so he slides off his papa's lap and grabs for his hand. "I can walk," he says. He thinks his papa might need him, which is a little worrying because it's always been that Papa is strongest, then Miik, then his mama needs both of them. His papa stands, and they follow Anakin through all the beds and the other slaves and the soldiers, past the awful scarred human, out the door, and Miik sighs. This is better, he thinks.

"We'll get you guys some real food and water," Anakin says, and Miik hopes no one can hear how loudly his stomach growls. It's embarrassing , and the kind of thing that always annoyed his master - which he thinks he doesn't have to care about anymore, but it's hard not to.

This ship is the first real ship Miik's ever been in, and he ends up lagging behind his papa a little because he can't stop looking at everything, all the silver and grey, everything clean and cool. There are still too many soldiers out here, but he feels better - the magic feels calmer and Anakin feels amused for some reason. It's all so different , but Miik doesn't think… doesn't think it's bad. Mostly. He's still a little afraid, but also.

He gets to eat . And he thinks he might get to eat more than gruel. Which would be really, really cool.

Anakin suddenly laughs and turns around, and Miik looks at him, surprised.

"Yeah, Miik, you get more than gruel. We have toast, and sandwiches, and uj cake, and nerfburgers, and I think we even have some havla somewhere."

Miik doesn't even know what most of that is , but Anakin's eyes twinkle like it's exciting, and Miik thinks it all sounds exciting and exotic and new and a lot better than gruel. "Really?" he says.

"Really."

Miik clings tighter to his papa's hand, grins up at him. This might be the best thing that's ever happened to him!

* * *

It feels like it takes ages (although it doesn't, really) before Ahsoka's thoughts clinging to Rex's gain more coherency and he senses vague confusion. Which is reasonable, since he's currently talking about all the many reasons he thinks Hero With No Fear is a really stupid holodrama. It's mostly so she has his voice to concentrate on, and he's not really sure if it's helped but she's paying attention to him now, so it doesn't matter so much why.

"Hey," he says, shifts a little and stills his hand on her headtail. His mouth is dry. I've told you, I really don't like that holo .

You're ridiculous , she thinks, sounds tired . Rex snorts.

I am not. He sighs and goes back to tracing the stripes on her headtails, and she lets go of his arm. Rex notes, with some surprise, that his vambrace is dented. If you wanted my armor off, Soka, you just had to ask .

Sorry .

Rex shrugs, reaches around her shoulder and starts unbuckling the piece, glad to get it off. It's fine , he says. It's armor, shit happens to it all the time . You didn't even mess up the paint job, anyway .

Soka wrinkles her nose a little at him, although he can tell she still feels bad. Rex thinks if this were Phase One armor this would not have happened. With a quiet sigh, he drops the armor on the floor and starts on his pauldron (which is also cracked, which is also because Phase Two armor is total shit). He projects that a little, because he can tell Soka feels guilty, and also , maybe now she'll get why he doesn't like Phase Two.

It's just as poky as Phase One , she grumbles, and Rex rolls his eyes and get his pauldron free, drops it on the floor too.

I don't think they designed it with cuddling in mind, Soka .

Well, they should have.

Who were you calling ridiculous? Rex nudges at her to scoot off his lap, and when she (reluctantly) does, he works at the rest of his armor. His fingers are clumsier than he wishes they were but he's done this a thousand times. He shouldn't just toss everything on the floor, that would waste precious time if he needed to be ready to fight but he is tired and uncomfortable and he just wants it off . Technically, he should change his blacks too, because he feels disgusting, but he doesn't want to take the time for that. He can use the 'fresher later. When he drops the last piece of armor on the floor and relaxes a little, Soka twists her arms around his torso and he takes a deep breath. Happy now?

Yeah, actually .

Rex sends an impression, kind of a rumble and a hmph, well, me too . He eases down to lay on one side, forcing away a wince. Ahsoka starts lying down too, and Rex feels a flicker of annoyance, which he doesn't get at first until he also catches the edge of a thought that she wishes he'd lay on his back so she can use him as a pillow. I rest my case, ner'jetii. Ridiculous .

You're more ridiculous, she grumbles, and Rex projects a threat that maybe he just won't let her use him as a pillow - which is a useless threat since he's already shifting over onto his back and pulling her into his arms. Also, you stink .

Shut up , Soka. He sighs and curls his hand over her montrals, takes another deep breath and lets it out slow. You need to sleep .

He feels she knows that, so he doesn't push it, just settles more, tries to let the tension sift out of his back into the mattress of his bunk. She twists her fingers in the fabric of his blacks and hooks her leg around both of his, and Rex accidentally lets slip a comparison that she's like a kriffing starfish.

Don't say anything, I'm tired, he thinks. You're not a starfish, you're very impressive.

Shut up .

Rex grumbles out loud and rolls his eyes - but lets it go because he should probably sleep if he's making stupid animal comparisons. He shifts a little, closes his eyes, tightens his arms around her and evens out his breathing. Rest, rest is good.

Love you, Soka .

Love you too. Kriffing shut up .


	7. Chapter 7

There are crimson bloodstains on his armor. Perhaps that should be more concerning, Jak thinks, but this is hardly the first time he's had tal on his beskar'gam, and it will certainly not be the last.

The only thing special about these haastale is the miserable being whose tal it is.

One of the miserable worms who dared call themselves his owner is dead, choked to death by his own whip.

And now, Jak cannot stop thinking.

He hadn't expected it to be this hard, seeing a master after so long; he hadn't expected the memories to be so thick, to cloud his mind like fog, too thick to chase away. He had thought this would help, thought skira would make things right, but instead he just feels… hollow. Angry, and hurting, and tired, and hollow.

He sits in the corner of the medbay, staring at his gauntleted hands-earlier, he'd watched a spot on the wall while the memories played like holos across his vision, but after the jetii Tano had panicked, he'd looked down at his hands, knowing he is partially at fault for her chaab. He hadn't wanted to meet anyone's gaze, not that he expected anyone to wish to look at him. (He shouldn't be bothered by the fact that the jetii is panicking because of him. She is a jetii, he doesn't care about jetii.)

(He's still twisted up by it.)

He clings to the stillness, the mission-silence, the ice, wraps it close until it burns, until the shatter-sharp edges of the ice are cutting deep into his palms, and he doesn't let it go, because he thinks if he lets go now he will break. Ice is cold, ice is strong, but ice is brittle, and ice breaks. Ice shatters into a million glitter-dust fragments, sharper than diamond motes, and he cannot afford to break.

Not yet. Not while the Mand'alor needs him. Not while the jetiise want him to fight.

So he stays still, stays silent, stares at his hands and the blood and does not move, he does not shatter, hardly even breathes, because stillness is safety and safety is survival and survival is everything.

...

There are so many people in the mess that Miik thinks if Anakin hadn't promised him food he would definitely go find a corner to sit in until everyone left. But he is hungry , and most of the soldiers aren't paying attention to him (and Miik hadn't been aware, before, that humans all looked so much alike, and all so weird ).

He clings onto Papa's hand and they follow Anakin past a few tables over by the wall, where Anakin hefts him up onto a bench and pulls out a chair for his papa before sitting down himself. Their table is empty except for three human soldiers, who are looking at Miik and his papa in a way that Miik decides he doesn't like.

"Uh, hey General," one of them says, "What the hell?"

Miik's papa stares down at the table, but Miik stares at the human because he has red hair and the brightest colors on his armor that Miik has ever seen . He doesn't even know what's going on and he is hungry and he isn't sure whether to be nervous or excited but Anakin still feels amused so this is probably fine.

"It's a long story, Brii," Anakin says. "Can you go get us a couple plates of food, just whatever we have?"

The soldier starts standing up, but one of the others, a human with longer hair, makes him sit back down. "I'll get one of the shinies to do it," he says, smirking a little. "Hey, '43!"

Miik watches, fascinated despite himself, as another soldier comes over and the long-haired one orders him to go get food, which Miik is definitelyhappy about, except he's confused how this all works . He rests his chin on his hand and tries not to scratch at his neck. Was that human a slave?

 **No.** Anakin's answer is loud in Miik's head and Miik pins his ears back, annoyed.

"You're too loud ," he grumbles, and his papa frowns and the other humans do too.

"'43 is just new to the battalion," Anakin says, like that makes any sense. Miik doesn't even know what battalion means. "The boys like messing with the new recruits."

"In our defense," the third soldier says, "they are really easy to fool." He has no hair, at all, and a lot more markings on his face than the other humans. Miik thinks humans don't make sense . How is he supposed to know what they're thinking if their ears never even move? How do they even hear anything?

I'm hungry , Miik thinks, and Anakin turns and raises an eyebrow at him.

I got that idea, kid, we're working on it.

Miik can't help being worried that there's not going to be enough food, or that there won't be any at all, but Anakin told him there would be and he believes Anakin, so he keeps staring at the humans because they are weird and he tries to be patient, to pretend he's in his corner and he can just be still and quiet and no one will pay any attention to him.

...

The kid is cute.

Like, okay, he's Zygerrian, which is… weird, if Brii's being honest, and also more than a little, well… he's a bit nervous about this, because Zygerrians, he's seen the Captain and the Commander's scars and the way they panicked in the tunnel and-but the kid is kriffing adorable.

So of course Brii has to pull his sketchbook out and start sketching him. He grins at the kid (ha, now his vod'e and his traat'aliit can't call him kid anymore, with this vaar'ika scampering around the ship), then looks at General Skywalker, because he's kriffing doing the thing. The thing the Captain and the Commander always do. "General, sir," he says, and General Skywalker frowns. "You're doing the thing."

The General blinks. "What thing?"

His ori'vod starts laughing, says, "Brii, probably not the time-"

"The mind-thing the Captain and the Commander always do!" Brii grins bigger, adds a few more lines to his sketch. "Where they start arguing inside their heads and then yell at each other out loud and nobody has any kriffing clue what's going on." Except Kix. Kix always knows. He has no idea how. "And it's really confusing and also really funny-"

"Ori'vod, shut up," Tup says, rolls his eyes. "We've got to at least pretend to be professional, here."

Jesse snorts. "What the kriff have you been drinking, Tup? We're Skywalker's battalion, we aren't professional-" and he closes his mouth firmly when the General glares.

"Kriff you, Jesse, I take offense at that! I'm very professional-"

"Senator Amidala," Brii says, smirks.

The General does a remarkable impression of a fish, his mouth gaping open and slamming closed multiple times in a row.

"You should sketch that," Tup suggests, and Brii tilts his head to one side, considering.

"He looks like a fish."

The General gets even more fishlike at that, and Jesse starts cackling. "You do, General, that's kriffing impressive."

Brii thinks he just might have a new caricature idea. From the look on the General's face, he's thinking the same thing, and not liking it. "Brii, I swear, if I find caricatures of my face on this kriffing ship-"

"Oh, don't worry, sir," Brii says, with a bright, obviously not innocent smile, "I'll make sure you don't find them."

...

Miik is… Miik is confused, but he's thrilled . There's so much smiling , and laughing , and Miik isn't totally sure everyone is being friendly but it all feels amazing .

It just gets better when the other human comes back with three whole platefuls of food that Miik has never seen in his life, but all of which look better than gruel. Woah , he thinks, and Anakin laughs. "Thanks, '43."

Anakin pushes an entire plate of food in front of Miik and Miik's eyes go wide and he can only stare . This is not real , definitely not - all of this has been too good to be true, but this . He reaches out, hesitantly, waits until Anakin pushes another plate in front of his papa.

All of this food is for him?

"Go slow, kid," Anakin says, and Miik does, because he's a little afraid if he moves too fast he'll wake up and it'll be gone. His papa is eating already, chewing carefully, small bites, and when Miik glances at him he smiles a little.

"Eat."

Miik grabs onto the best-looking thing on his plate, something meaty that smells amazing , and tears into it before remembering he's supposed to go slow but wow . He didn't know anything in the world could taste this good. "Papa, you should try this!" he says, excitedly, and his papa's mouth twitches up just a little more.

"I will," he says, gruffly, and Miik takes another big bite. He is definitely imagining all this but he doesn't even care . The humans, Tup and Jesse and Brii, are all staring at him, and he still doesn't really like that but as long as they keep feeding him, they can be as weird as they want.

...

Miik's mind is full of awe, and Anakin can't stop himself from grinning at the feeling-he knows Tup and Brii and Jesse are placing bets on something, can tell by the way the three of them are laughing and whispering together, but at this moment he can't bring himself to care.

"Speaking of Rex and Commander Tano," Jesse says after a moment, "where are they, anyway?"

Anakin winces a little and bites his lip, hesitates. "Ahsoka is…" and he frowns, checks on the bond. "Asleep, apparently. She got overwhelmed," and he knows his men know what he means.

"Is the Captain okay?" Brii asks (and kriff the kid, if he discovers offensive pictures of himself as a fish anywhere on this ship he's going to murder Brii), looking worried. "When we were scouting, those two guards knew him and the Commander, and he panicked."

Anakin nods, winces again. "Yeah, I know. From what I picked up from Snips, those two guards were personally assigned to her and Rex in Kadavo. But Rex is-I think he's doing okay."

"Except for the fact where he carried the Commander," Kix announces dramatically from the end of the table. "Kriff him, I'm going to make good on my threat of severe bodily pain."

Tuck, wandering over, rolls his eyes. "Like he could've done anything else, vod."

Kix makes a face, flops onto the table on his back and starts pulling off his upper body armor. "Kriff you, Tuck."

"You okay there, Kix?" Anakin asks, raising an eyebrow, amused-he probably shouldn't be, the medic is stressed and exhausted, but it's kriffing funny.

Kix responds with a rude gesture that makes Jesse whistle and applaud, and Anakin rolls his eyes. "You kriffing left me alone with kriffing mando'ade, Skywalker, and none of them would kriffing let me treat them!"

Anakin raises his hands in surrender. "Blame the Mand'alor, not me."

"And kriffing Jak Ordo won't kriffing leave," and Kix violently flings a pauldron into the wall and grumbles something very rude in Mando'a under his breath. "Skywalker, can you please-make them listen to me?"

Anakin's rather distracted by the way Miik's flinching away from the noise, the gesture, and he says quietly, "Kix, get it together." It's alright, kid, he's not throwing it at you. He's just frustrated and tired.

Kix sits up, lets Tuck pull him off the table, moves to the bench, and then his eyes land on Miik and he swears. "What the kriff, did you adopt another youngling?"

"Another-what?" Anakin stares. "I didn't adopt Ahsoka, the Council sent her to me-"

"So you're adopting this one?" That's Brii.

Unfair. Anakin makes a face, gestures rudely at all of them. "Shut up, all of you."

"Yessir," Tup says, saluting, "Right away, sir-"

"That means you, Tup," insufferable clone troopers, why the kriff. He points his fork at them all, vaguely threateningly, glares. "I'm putting all of you on dish detail today."

Brii looks vaguely horrified, Kix just makes yet another one of the gestures he's picked up from the Kyr'tsad, and Jesse rolls his eyes. "Only Rex can do that."

"Wanna bet?"

...

"Guys, General Skywalker can do what he wants," Brii says, and Miik takes a bite of something soft and moist and sweet and wow .

"Oh, Brii, you're so quaint," Jesse says. Miik peers at the bald human's head, wonders if it would be rude to ask what his markings are and why he's hairless. Probably. And it would mean not eating more of whatever he's chewing on at the moment. (He already feels so full and he doesn't remember feeling full like this before.)

Brii opens his mouth, and even Miik can tell he's offended, which is funny , and when no sound comes out, Miik can't help but giggle .

Which makes everyone look at him. Oh no. He swallows the food in his mouth, ears twitching. "Sorry," he mutters.

"Oh my little gods," Jesse groans. "It's fine, vaar'ika ."

Miik smiles, tentatively, and everyone grins. Which is weird. Humans are weird.

Why do they talk that way, Anakin? He takes another bite of his food. I don't get it .

They think they're funny , Anakin says, which doesn't really help. Miik leans into his papa's shoulder and eyes the rest of his food narrowly. He doesn't feel so good because his stomach is starting to hurt, so he doesn't want to eat more, but he's afraid there won't be more if he doesn't. Take it easy, Miik . There's plenty of food and plenty of time.

Miik doesn't even know how that's possible , but both Anakin and his papa give him sharp looks when he reaches for his plate again, so he just pulls his hand back and starts thinking about other things so he doesn't think about food. He's good at that.

I think I like them , he thinks, bites his claws a little. He wonders if the other human, Rex, is anything like this. Is this normal for humans? He doesn't know, but he definitely thinks this is fun.

...

Kix is miserable.

Normally, he appreciates his talent for empathy, the way he instinctively feels a person's emotions, but the medbay today has been packed to the brim with too much- he knows exactly why the Commander panicked, especially since she got stuck with the task of trying to talk Jak kriffing Ordo down, since she's the only one he listened to when he'd attacked Crys.

Crys Rodarch, thankfully, isn't in the medbay, because that would kriffing make this entire kriffing day even better.

"What's the plan for Grievous?" he asks, after a moment, because while half the battalion seems to have forgotten the real reason they're on Utapau, Kix hasn't. "Have we heard back from the rest of the scouts?"

Skywalker grins sheepishly. "Um. I should probably ask Obi-Wan about that."

"Are you kriffing kidding me," Kix says flatly, and then he sighs and rolls his eyes. "You aren't going to let Kenobi fight Grievous, right, General?"

"Well," and the shifty look on Skywalker's face is all the answer Kix needs.

"Oh, kriff you, why did I even ask," and he groans. "Why do I have to do everything myself?"

"I ask myself that a lot," Skywalker says. And grins.

Kriff him.

"I'll have to talk to Scratch. Maybe between the two of us we can keep him shipbound," he mutters, scrubbing his hands over his face.

"You need to sleep, vod," Jesse says, and yes, okay, he's right, but he can sleep later.

(The Force isn't very pleased with that.)

"I'm fine, Jesse," Kix grumbles petulantly. He is, really.

"You keep swearing in front of the vaar'ika."

That's not the point. "And?"

"How much Force-healing have you done?"

Kriff Jesse for knowing him too well. "Not that much?" he tries, and even Brii glares, like they all know. "Okay, fine. More than I should've. But-"

"Kix," Skywalker says, groans. "How many times do you have to get Force burn before you learn?"

He shrugs a little. "I ask myself that a lot. About you Jedi."

"I'll Force you under," Skywalker threatens, and Kix rolls his eyes.

"Kriffing try me, General. I'm not in the mood, and I'm hardly weak-minded. Also," and he grins a little, "even Kenobi couldn't Force me under after Kamino."

His General hadn't known that, and the Jedi looks… distinctly unamused by that.

...

Zarak knows that what he doesn't know what's going on, the best thing to do is keep his head down and not ask questions. Miik has just started understanding that, but it seems his hard work on that has gone out the window, and Zarak blames the Jedi. So there's food, and banter, and it's all fine , but Zarak knows he is on thin ground and he doesn't want to lose his son to all this.

Miik's head is on his shoulder and he seems amazed by everything, and Zarak allows himself to be grateful they gave him and Miik so much food - but he won't thank them. That would be admitting a debt, something owed, and he knows better.

"You need to go back to the barracks," the one called Jesse says, sharply, and Zarak reaches for more of his food. He doesn't care how much these soldiers talk (although he is almost, almost amused by their reaction to Miik), he just wants to eat and take what he can get. He doesn't even know where he's expected to sleep tonight, Alari is in the med bay entirely too close to people General Skywalker says he doesn't trust, and his son is clearly very excited about this Jedi they've met.

Zarak thinks most of the things he counts on are moments away from crashing down. A part of him is surprised it's taken this long. Mostly he just knows the best he can do for himself and Miik and Alari is be quiet and take what he can, while he can.

Before reality settles back in.

...

Brii has a hard time understanding exactly what Kix's aversion to sleep is-it must be a Jedi thing, he muses, seeing as how Generals Kenobi and Skywalker and Commander Tano do it all the time on missions. Still, the medic looks worn to the bone, and the way he'd flopped out on the nearest flat surface and laced every sentence with multiple swears is just a further indication. So Brii stands, says, "Come on, vod, we'll need you in the medbay if the mission goes bantha-shit."

Kix makes a face but sighs, because Brii is right and knows it. "Fine," he grumbles, "but comm Scratch and get him over here. Somebody needs to look after those two," and he nods at the vaar'ika and the older Zygerrian.

"I can do that," Tuck says, and General Skywalker snorts.

"Not kriffing likely, Tuck," he says, rolls his eyes. "You've been on your feet just as long as Kix has, and I didn't promote you so you could turn into a self-sacrificing di'kut."

Kix makes a face at that.

"Is is the Force that does that?" Brii asks, curiously, extending a hand so he can pull his vod off the bench. "Make you a self-sacrificing di'kut, I mean. Since it seems like most Jedi are." And then he stops, realizes what he's just said. "Kriff, that was so rude, I'm sorry-"

General Skywalker laughs, and keeps laughing, shaking his head, smiling almost fondly. "You're fine, kid."

Brii bristles at that. "I'm not the kid anymore," he complains, "you've got an actual kid running around now-"

"You're still a kid, ori'vod," Tup says gently, and Brii sulks. Tup is supposed to be on his side. "Sorry to disappoint."

Brii sighs, huffs a little, grumbles. At least he's not a shiny. His eyes land on his sketchbook, and the rough sketch of the vaar'ika, and he smiles a little, leaves Kix to grab the book. "Hey, vaar'ika."

It takes the vaar'ika a minute to realize Brii's talking to him, and then his eyes go wide and his ears flatten against his head a little. He doesn't say anything, though he glances first at his buir, then at the General (yup, definitely going to be the General's new padawan, he's so going to win that bet), and Brii takes that as an invitation. He walks around to the other side of the table, shows the kid the sketch. "What do you think?"

...

Without thinking about it, Miik lifts his hand toward the drawing, wanting to touch it, fascinated - but that would be rude, probably, so he pulls his hand back to his chest and just stares .

That's definitely him , on that page, and Brii made that picture of him, and Miik doesn't know why but it's really nice . And Brii says "What do you think?" and Miik can barely believe the question. Why does it matter what he thinks - it's a picture Brii made.

"Woah," he says, and Brii laughs. "You made that?"

"Yeah," Brii said, smiling widely. "Because you were cute."

Miik blinks and looks at his papa, who flicks his ears dismissively, like just accept it, kid . "Thanks?" he says, staring at the drawing because looking at Brii is intimidating.

"You can keep it, once I finish it," Brii says, and Miik glances at his papa again, and his papa's hackles are up. Miik knows the rule, you don't let people give you things. Gifts mean you owe someone something, and when you took things from the masters they would always remind you.

"That's okay," Miik says hesitantly, scooting closer to Papa. "I really like it though."

Brii looks confused, and kind of frowns and leans back. Miik just stares at the picture and tries to smile at Brii because it is a really amazing thing, that Brii made.

...

Brii doesn't mean to be hurt, but he is, in a way. "Oh," he says, softly, tries not to sound disappointed, and he backs up a little. "Uh, okay, right," and he hugs his sketchbook to his chest protectively, nods a little. "Right."

He hadn't planned on offering the sketch to the vaar'ika, but the kid had looked so excited and he's really kriffing cute and well, he hadn't really thought about it, just… done it. But the kid doesn't want it. Okay, that's… okay, it's not like he'd expected the kid to want it, it's fine, it's all fine. He tries a smile, fails a little, turns it into a grimace, and backs quickly around to the other side of the table, to Tup and Jesse and Kix and Tuck. "Come on, vod," he says to Kix, "let's go back to the barracks."

He can finish the drawing there, and make sure Kix actually sleeps. And then he'll work on the drawing of General Skywalker the fish. He knows the General, at least, laughs at his caricatures, so… so that's good, that'll be good. It's okay that the kid doesn't want it. It's fine. He'll make it be fine. After all, this isn't the first time someone didn't want his drawings, lots of people don't like pictures.

Tup looks worried, he thinks, though he's not sure why.

...

Miik isn't good at human faces, but Brii looks unhappy , and Miik knows the rule, you can't take gifts, but Brii looks really disappointed and Miik wants the picture. He doesn't know what he'd do with the picture, but he wants it.

"Um… Brii?" he says, and his papa lets out a very soft growl, quiet enough that Miik thinks the humans and their tiny ears probably can't hear it. Miik winces, but Brii just looks so sad and Miik loves that picture. Brii looks at him, raises his eyebrows, and Miik scratches his ear. "I really want the picture," he admits.

"Miik!"

"But I can't have it!" Miik says quickly, because he's not breaking Papa's rule, he's just explaining . "Papa has a rule about gifts, so I can't-"

" Miik ," his papa says, more urgently, and Miik stops because Papa's ears are shifting a little bit back, hackles still up. He's messed up something, hasn't he? He didn't mean to, but at least Brii looks less upset now, more confused, but Papa does not look pleased and Miik somehow knows his papa is scared . Which is probably Miik's fault. He didn't mean to mess all this up, he just wanted to fix it.

Jesse gestures to the other two, the one with the cool markings, Kix, and the one called Tuck, and they leave while Brii kind of hesitates and sits down. Miik glances at Papa again because he suddenly doesn't know what he's supposed to do. There isn't a rule that quite fits this.

...

Anakin doesn't want to be angry, because he understands, he recognizes the signs, he remembers his mom's rules, but-this is ridiculous, and Zarak is making this all harder on Miik, and… "I'm not a kriffing slaver," he snaps through gritted teeth. "I was born a slave, Zarak, I know the rules, my mother taught me them, but you're making this harder on your son. It's a drawing, no strings attached, you don't owe us anything."

Zarak looks angry, and also afraid, and he snaps out, "Leave Miik out of this."

Which is so stupid, and Anakin clenches his jaw tighter, because all of this-it's all too much, too close to home, and he really doesn't want to lose his temper. Not here, not now. So he balls his hands into fists, closes his eyes, swallows hard. "Brii, Tup, get them back to the medbay, get them bunks, get Scratch or someone over here to treat them," he orders, stands slowly, lets his breath out carefully. "I need to find Obi-Wan and Bo-Katan and mission-plan."

Anakin? Miik asks, careful but concerned, and Anakin thinks the kid understands enough to know this is about more than just a picture, but not more than that. Where are you going?

The kid is worried. Anakin sighs, can't help unbending enough to smile. "I'm just going to find Obi-Wan, that's all."

"Kenobi," Zarak says flatly, obviously familiar with the names, from the holos probably. He doesn't look pleased.

"Kenobi," Anakin agrees, inclines his head.

"Can I come?" Miik asks, eyes wide and unsure but curious, and also like he's nervous about letting Anakin out of his sight.

"Miik!" Zarak, Anakin thinks, looks pissed.

Miik shrinks a little, his ears flattening against his head, but he doesn't relent. "Please, Anakin?"

Anakin does not want to let the kid out of his sight. But he also doesn't really want to get into a fight with Zarak here, not least because the Zygerrian is injured, and it would make Miik panic. "Your papa needs medical treatment," he says gently, neither a no nor a yes, just a statement of fact.

Miik nods, looks uncertain. "But you aren't coming with us." He tilts his head to one side, adds, I don't want you to leave.

Anakin closes his eyes, sighs quietly. "I do have to introduce you to Obi-Wan," he mumbles tiredly, because it is too late for this shit, he's tired,kriffing Windu waking him up way too kriffing early. "Alright, fine, c'mere kid," and he bends down and scoops Miik up into his arms again. The kid smiles widely, though he still looks unsure, and kind of… melts into his arms, and Anakin can't keep a grin off his face. "You are too cute," he says under his breath.

...

Tup comes over, like he expects Zarak to actually go with him for medical attention when his son is going off with a Jedi to meet General Kenobi , like this is supposed to be fine . So kriffing what if Skywalker was a slave and "knows how it feels," he's not leaving his son alone with him.

The Jedi destroyed his people, and they take Force sensitive children, and Zarak is not going to receive medical attention while he doesn't even know where Miik is .

"I'm coming too," he says, sharply, and the clone stops, frowns.

"No, you aren't," Skywalker answers, with a barely-there edge to his voice. "You need bacta. Kix will kill me if I let you."

Miik's ears swivel straight up. "I want him to come," he says, grinning a little. "That would be fun ."

Zarak smiles at his son because unfortunately, it seems Miik really likes Skywalker, so he has to pretend this is somewhat fine.

"He needs medicine , Miik," the Jedi says, narrowing his eyes at Zarak. Zarak twists his lip, bares his teeth a little, but also bares his throat. He doesn't mean to do that, but it's probably wiser.

"I have gone longer without it," Zarak says, which is true. No one wastes bacta on slaves. Zarak has been whipped many times, and he's used to dealing with it. "I'd like to meet General Kenobi too," he says, smiles at Miik again. Skywalker scowls, and Zarak is pushing things, but he thinks Skywalker cares about his son, which means a small measure of safety.

Skywalker glares at him for a second, and Zarak drops his eyes to the floor instinctively.

"Come on, Anakin," Miik says, cheerfully, and Zarak smirks a little. Yeah, come on, Skywalker .

He is not going anywhere without Miik, and he thinks there's only so far Skywalker will push him on this with Miik here. He's not going to trust anyone else with Miik's safety, however much they seem to care.

...

Anakin will be talking to Zarak about this. Later. When Miik is not bouncy and beaming in his arms, his thoughts rippling with excitement. "Fine," he says shortly, "but when you collapse I'm sending you back to the medbay, where you should be."

"If," Zarak corrects, and Anakin rolls his eyes. Whatever.

"Tup," he calls, and the long-haired trooper meets his eyes, a question inherent in them. "I want Cody and a full squad of vod'e he trusts absolutely over here with Scratch. Domino on shifts with them."

"Medbay?"

Anakin nods. "Elle and anyone she trusts can rotate in, but the only mando'ad allowed unsupervised is Elle. Don't kriffing let Kix back in the medbay until he's slept it off, clear?"

"Yes, sir," Tup says, snaps out a salute, and he and Brii hurry off. Anakin nods, satisfied, and then he starts for the bridge.

He keeps up a running mental commentary to Miik as they go, pointing things out, speaking out loud just often enough that Zarak knows what he's doing, and the Zygerrian is angry but there's only so far either of them are willing to go with Miik here. Anakin has to bite his lip to hide a smirk. Payback.

Sure enough, Obi-Wan and Bo-Katan are on the bridge, Utapau in glowing blue between them, the scouted sinkholes marked in red, the as-yet-unscouted ones yellow. "Nice of you to join us, Sky-" and Bo-Katan's voice cuts off as she turns enough to see. "The kriff, Skywalker, you can't just bring ade into a war briefing!"

"Obi-Wan, this is Miik. Miik, meet General Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master."

Miik flinches a little, ears flattening, says tremulously, "Master?"

Anakin winces. "Not that kind of master," he explains quickly. "It's just a title. It means he's really good at the Force." The kid still looks unsure, feels scared, so he says, "He's not going to hurt you, promise. He's the one who rescued me when I was a slave."

Obi-Wan chuckles. "One might say you rescued yourself, Anakin."

He smirks. "Well, yes, and I blew up a droid control ship in the process."

"Really?" Miik asks, eyes wide and round.

Anakin nods, very seriously. "You see, we were on Naboo. The Trade Federation had taken over the planet and the Queen had to flee-"

"Perhaps now is not the best time," Obi-Wan interrupts. Anakin makes a face. He likes telling that story.

...

Obi-Wan isn't sure how Anakin has managed to pick up a Zygerrian boy, but Obi senses the child is a sensitive. Wonderful. What a complication. The Force is almost laughing at this.

"It's nice to meet you, Miik," Obi says, raises an eyebrow at Anakin because they will be talking about this later. "And who's this?"

The other Zygerrian, darker grey than Miik, and Obi-Wan tries to keep his heartrate steady (release it to the Force, this is fine).

"He's Miik's father," Anakin says, and the Zygerrian twitches his ears, which Obi-Wan knows means the Zygerrian is deeply uncomfortable. "Zarak."

"Pleased to meet you, as well," Obi says smoothly. Bo-Katan snorts and crosses her arms, and Obi thinks this is not an ideal situation. "Anakin, I would love an explanation for this, but perhaps later? We have plans to make. It seems Grievous has not caught wind of all this," - which is, frankly, a miracle - "and we've located him here." Obi sweeps his hand and pulls part of the map up, a couple dozen clicks away. "There's a lot more of the CIS officers with him than we anticipated."

...

Anakin grimaces, nods. "Right." He glances down at Miik. Are you staying here or do you want to go back to the medbay?

Miik frowns. I don't want to go back there. The magic wasn't happy.

Fair enough. "What does the Council say?" he asks Obi-Wan, stepping forward to look closer at the holo.

Obi-Wan sighs. "Kill Grievous, capture as many CIS high brass as possible, and do it fast."

Obviously. Grievous will do everything in his power to escape, the instant he knows they're here. "Killing Grievous won't be easy," he remarks, frowns. "What're we looking at down there?"

Bo-Katan steps forward, manipulates the holo to zoom in on the sinkhole, places orange indicators in a few key spots. "Antiaircraft here, here, and here, though I think these defenses are manned by the sentients who live here. Looks like the natives are under occupation by a droid army-Grievous and his officials are down on the lower levels."

Anakin hums thoughtfully, adjusting Miik in his arms. "Who contacted us with the tip?"

"It appears to have come from the native population," Obi-Wan says.

Good, that's good. "If they'd sympathetic to Republic forces, we could take an unmarked ship down, go after Grievous, bring the battalions in after we've cornered him."

Obi-Wan frowns, rubs his beard. "Grievous will certainly have sentries watching for Jedi."

"Then we make it look like we're stopping for a refuel, pretend to board the ship, sneak out and hide, have Artoo fly it out."

"We'd be stranded down there," Bo-Katan says.

He shrugs. "Just until the transports showed up. It wouldn't be long."

"It's risky," Obi-Wan agrees.

Anakin snorts. "Compared to my normal plans, Master," and he quickly soothes Miik mentally, "this is tame. And it'll work."

...

Miik doesn't really understand what's happening at all, except it sounds somewhere between dangerous and exciting, and Anakin feels a little thrilled. He keeps his eyes on his papa and keeps thinking toward Anakin. It helps, Anakin talking to him and his papa holding his eyes.

The new Jedi, General - or is it Master? - Obi-Wan Kenobi, feels like a nice person. "Yes, it might," he says, with a wry smile. "Although I wouldn't object to a better plan."

"This is the best plan I have," Anakin says. "If you want a better one, you'll need to make a better one."

Miik snickers a little and leans back. Hey, Anakin, I want to get down .

You sure?

Yeah . Miik wants to stand by his papa, and anyway, the red-haired human is staring at him and it makes Miik feel small. Which he is not , he's eight , thank you very much, and that human looks weirder and angrier than the other ones do, mostly. Anakin sets him down and he crosses his arms, edges towards Papa, and tries to pretend he knows what's going on.

...

Anakin, Obi-Wan says sharply, across their training bond, and Anakin grimaces a little, did you **bond** with the youngling?

It wasn't my fault! Why does everyone keep blaming him for this? For once, he didn't do it!

Obi-Wan just glares. "Unfortunately," he says, "I don't have a better plan." He looks to Bo-Katan, asks, "Is Jak going to be able to fight?"

The Mand'alor nods, though there's tension lines around her green eyes. "He was ori'ramikad, he knows how to compartmentalize."

"Good," Anakin says. "I want you and him with Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, Rex, and I when we go after Grievous. We'll need you to set up a perimeter and capture as many Seppies as possible."

Obi-Wan nods. "Good idea-Cody, Kix, and Elle can coordinate the battalions. You should ready your warriors, Mand'alor."

She nods again, says, "Meet in the hangar in fifteen?"

"Excellent."

* * *

Ahsoka is jerked awake by the insistent chirping of her commlink. She frowns, blinks the sleep slowly out of her eyes; she's still tired, still shaky and unbalanced, but at least she feels vaguely calm, now. Her internal clock is off, and she's not sure what time it is, though she doesn't think she's been asleep for too long, given how tired she still feels. She would rather still be sleeping, but her comm won't stop, and beneath her cheek Rex is stirring, the sound and her own wakefulness pulling him from the sleep they both so desperately need.

I know you're awake, Snips, Anakin sends, and she responds with a few choice swears, presses the button on her wristcomm. "What?"

"I need you and Rex ready for a fight and in the hangar in fifteen," he says, almost apologetically, and she grumbles. "I'm briefing the men now, will brief you two when I see you. Hurry it up, we don't have much time."

Kriff. I don't want to, cyare, she thinks, closes her eyes again and nestles closer to Rex. He hums soothingly, runs his hands across her montrals and headtails. It's nice, feels good, comforting, feels like safety and home, but it's not enough. I'm tired.

Me too, 'Soka, but we can rest after this.

That's too far away. For a moment, she almost doesn't care that completing this mission brings them one step closer to the end of the war; she's tired of fighting this war. Yes, she's a huntress, she comes alive in a fight, but this war is so pointless and they know now it was fabricated from the very start, and so they don't even have a cause to fight for anymore. And it's exhausting. She huffs out a breath, refuses to move until Rex says, I need to put my armor on, and then she grumbles but reluctantly sits up.

And then swears. "The cracked pieces," she remembers, the parts of his armor she'd clung to with so much force (and Force), and she swallows, chokes under a sudden flood of guilt.

He's not going to be adequately protected in the coming battle, and it's her fault.

...

Rex sighs and reaches for his chestpiece, starts efficiently strapping it on. He wants to change his blacks but he doesn't have time for that so it's the backplate, then his pauldrons, then vambraces and gauntlets. The vambrace isn't much of a concern, just a little dented - he's a little more worried about his pauldron, but if it fails him, he'll be able to make do.

"It'll be fine," he says dismissively. "I'm already short a DC, so I'm sure I won't be bored today."

He doesn't think that exactly helps Soka, and he sighs, supposes he should be less flippant, he just has to not care or he'll worry because alright, they aren't the most important armor pieces, but he has them for a reason. He shields that thought with yet another sigh and reaches out, quickly, puts his hand on her shoulder. "I'm serious, Soka, I'm going to be fine . Okay?"

He stands up, pads over to grab his boots and shove them on, then his belt and kamas, slips the vibroblade he keeps under his pillow into his gauntlet, and picks up his bucket, settles it on his head. He doesn't really feel ready to go fight again, but he is ready, which is the important thing. Slower than usual, three minutes today, but that's good enough for now.

Ahsoka was ready to go already, more or less, which is fine except he shares Cody's opinion that the Jedi should really wear more armor, wear something - his Soka doesn't even bother with a tabard, which he's tried to talk to her about, but she doesn't listen. Apparently a few armor pieces would simply be too limiting for a Jedi .

...

Ahsoka doesn't entirely believe him, but she sighs, nods, hooks her 'sabers to her belt. "You better be fine," she mutters, "or we're going to have words about it."

She means it to be vaguely threatening, but she doesn't think she succeeds, considering the brief flicker of amusement she picks up from him. "Soka, you don't even wear armor," he huffs.

She makes a face at him. "It'd just get in the way."

He sighs. "My point exactly."

She shrugs, not entirely understanding, says, "Come on, Anakin's going to be mad if we're late," even though they still have somewhere between five and ten minutes to go.

They make it down to the hangar with plenty of time to spare, and unsurprisingly, Anakin isn't there yet. Obi-Wan is, though, and with him are Bo-Katan and Jak. Jak has his helmet on, and she can't help being grateful. She doesn't want to see his face.

...

Rex finds himself as grateful for his own helmet as Ahsoka is for Jak's. He thinks his face would give away too much of what he feels, the exhaustion and nerves and the way he can't help being a bit threatened by Jak right now. It's just that there are stains on Jak's armor, and Rex had seen him when he was going to kill his master, and Rex saw the body and… and he doesn't like what he'd seen.

He'd known Jak Ordo was different from himself, or the Jedi, or his vod'e , but he hadn't been aware just how different.

I don't think he's ready for this, Rex thinks. This whole campaign has been far harder on Jak than Rex had expected - hells, although he wouldn't say so, he thinks Ahsoka isn't ready for this either.

He is, somehow, and he won't complain about it (he's not, he's not ready this is just a normal battle but everything is off-kilter, has been since they arrived) because being battle-ready is good, definitely basic, beginning necessity.

I'm worried about him , Ahsoka says, and there's an impression of memory, of how Jak had felt after the battle. In return, Rex sends the image of Jak's owner's body, just a snippet of it.

Ahsoka feels stunned .

He's not safe , Rex says, not like it's a surprise or like any of this is. It's just a fact, simple. Jak might like Ahsoka, maybe even like Rex and Brii and some of the others. Jak may be powerful and have a sense of honor and duty. But Jak Ordo is not safe .

I guess not . Ahsoka sighs and leans into him a little, and he senses she's still so tired . She shouldn't be going on this mission, and Rex knows she wouldn't appreciate it but he considers talking to Anakin, asking him to make Ahsoka stay behind. He doesn't think she would listen, at least not easily, but he weighs the option anyway, seriously, shielding the deliberations from her. Ultimately, he decides it wouldn't really work, and she'd be pissed at him, so he just suggests it himself.

Maybe you should stay on the Resolute for some of this. Help keep an eye on the slaves. He's very careful to only let some of his worry bleed through, enough that she understands.

...

It's a mark of how tired and hollow she feels that Ahsoka actually considers Rex's suggestion for a moment. Sleep, watching the slaves, making sure the Death Watch soldiers don't kill or maim anyone… it sounds nice, she thinks, and that sends warning bells ringing dimly through the back of her mind. Plus, she thinks, Rex won't be here with her, if she stays, Rex will be out there with no one to watch his six, and…

And he doesn't need her there, but. But she needs to be here, she needs to be out there, fighting Grievous, she needs to be there for Anakin, and so she takes a deep breath. No, I need to fight, she thinks, and she can feel some of Rex's agitation, his worry for her. He wants her to stay.

She really probably should.

But she needs to go. She needs to be there. So she squares her shoulders and lifts her chin and turns her spine to durasteel and says, "What's the situation, Obi-Wan?"

"I think I'll wait for Anakin to get here," the Jedi Master says, and she nods. Fair enough. "This is his plan, after all."

Oh, great. Wonderful. Maybe she should stay back, after all.

...

Rex's thoughts echo Soka's own. He just loves Anakin's plans. At least they work , and they aren't as careless as they seem, oftentimes - but they are still insane , and Rex finds himself falling a lot.

You should definitely stay here, he jokes, and he can feel she's a little piqued about that, it's just- he's not sure, he thinks he's worrying too much. And he doesn't mean to be anxious, he just feels like things are out of control and he needs this campaign to make sense again.

Plans would be good. But Anakin seems determined to shave his arrival down to the last possible second he can, which is not exactly unusual. Kenobi doesn't look thrilled about it either - wisely, Kenobi is also staying fairly clear of Jak.

General Kenobi shouldn't be on this mission either. Rex sighs and draws his unmodified DC-17. He hopes they'll make planetfall somewhere soon so he can get a new part for his good blaster. At least after this battle he'll have time to go the armory and replace his damaged pieces, although that means a new paint job.

He does like painting his armor, though, so that's fine.

He's just sliding his vibroblade out of his gauntlet to twist it between his fingers when Anakin shows up, walking easy and confident like he's got all the time in the world. Which is also not unusual. Rex flips the blade in his palm, feels the weight of it, rolls his eyes even though Anakin can't see it.

"Good to see you both," Anakin says, with a wry smirk, and Rex nods. His General looks tired , which doesn't surprise Rex, exactly, but does worry him. "Sorry you didn't have more time to sleep."

Rex, personally, is fine - Ahsoka really needs sleep still, though, and he really wants to say something to Anakin about it but he's sure Anakin can already tell. Hence the apology.

"It's okay," Ahsoka says, and Rex frowns.

And decides he's done enough worrying for now, enough thinking , so he takes a few deep breaths and pushes all the extra stuff to the back corners of his mind for later, channels the anxious pre-battle energy into tightening his hand around his vibroblade and testing the edge of it with his thumb.

He forces steel into his spine and steadiness into his breath, ignores the way his wound has been throbbing since he woke up. Unfortunately, he can't afford to care about that right now. He'll deal with it after they win, and if there's a problem, he'll deal with that too.

...

Anakin is projecting a steady stream of apologetic concern, and it's driving Ahsoka crazy.

Like, okay, she gets it-he's worried about her, because she'd had a total meltdown for absolutely no reason (and she's a Jedi, or, well, sorta-a-Jedi, she should be better than that), and he's sorry because she needs more sleep than she'd gotten, but all of them are in that boat. Anakin himself looks about like he hasn't really slept in a week, with shadows under his eyes and a bit of a paleness to his skin that worries her. So she puts up a light shield across the training bond, just enough to send Anakin a message-he pulls back almost immediately, with one last light apology, and she lets the shield dissipate. "What's the plan?" she asks, and Anakin takes a breath, his gaze sharpening.

"The locals are under Separatist occupation and are sympathetic to us," he explains, "so we take an unmarked ship, land, pretend to leave again-"

And Ahsoka grins, picking up the rest of the plan from his head. "You're going to have Artoo remote-pilot the ship away while we-what, sneak out and hide underneath the landing pad and hope the sentries don't notice us?" A typical Skywalker plan, if she's being honest with herself, maybe less dangerous and reckless than some of the ones they've done-and succeeded with. Still dangerous, especially with the amount of sleep they're all sporting.

Anakin grins, laughs a little. "Exactly, Snips. We'll sneak down to the lower levels-that's where our intel has Grievous holed up at-and then call in the battalions once we've got him secured."

It's a sound plan. Even if it is reckless, and dangerous, and a high chance of failure, it's the only plan they have. Unfortunately. Obi-Wan looks… frustrated, she thinks, or just plain unsure about all this, and she doesn't blame him. "We need to move, then," she says, feels Rex taking a few careful breaths, slipping into his battle-ready mindset.

"Wait," Bo-Katan says, and holds something up-a jetpack. She extends it to Rex. "You might need a sen'tra for this mission, Captain."

...

Rex takes the jetpack, of course- he knows how to use one, technically is even good at it. He doesn't particularly like fighting with one, but that's neither here nor there.

"Thanks, Mand'alor ," he says, pulling the harness over his shoulders and buckling it around his waist. Hopefully he won't need it much.

He follows Ahsoka and Anakin to their ship (lets Jak and Bo-Katan go ahead of him though, with a forced kind of politeness, because just now he doesn't want Jak behind him), stares somewhat dubiously at it again before climbing in.

They're going to fly down into a sinkhole crawling with CIS top brass and General Grievous , consequently also many, many droid battalions, and they're going to have their only escape route fly away without them until they can secure General Grievous - which is, historically, not an easy ask.

I have a bad feeling about this, Rex says, twirling his vibroblade again and glancing over at Anakin and Kenobi.

It'll probably be fine , Ahsoka says, and Rex snorts and leans back against the wall of the ship, feels durasteel shuddering as the engines come online.

"Oh, I'm sure it will," he mutters, for just Ahsoka to hear. "But I'm also sure it's going to be very exciting ."

...

For some reason, Ahsoka thinks Rex is being rather facetious when he says exciting in that particular tone of voice. It brings a little smile to her face, and she leans into him a bit, just a little, even as they board the ship and the door hisses closed. There's someone-something?-beeping and burbling in binary from the cockpit, and it takes a moment but she recognizes it as Artoo. Anakin grins, says, "We're all clear, Artoo, take us down," and then the ship lifts off and starts to move.

Jak's standing incredibly, completely still in one corner of the hold, back to both walls, his hands folded behind him in impeccable parade rest. She tries not to let that unnerve her, focuses instead on the others: Obi-Wan sitting cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed, meditating (of course he is); Bo-Katan reflexively checking her blasters, feeling the weight and balance, sighting down the barrel, turning them over and over in her hands; Anakin pacing a path around the hold, his right hand hovering near his 'saber hilt. Rex is outwardly calm beside her, though she can feel the tense anxiety humming in the back of his thoughts like a live wire-he's pushing it back, taking careful, deep breaths, falling further and further into battle-readiness. Smart.

She should probably do the same.

Ahsoka closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, feels mission-silence coming over her like a cloak, icy-still and holding her tense, a shock of energy spiking through her blood, giving her the strength to shove her shoulders back and lift her chin and feel like she can actually do this without collapsing.

No one speaks as the ship drops down into the sinkhole and lands; Obi-Wan stands, snapping out of his meditation easily, wraps his cloak around him as he steps out the door, alone. (She doesn't trust this.) He's gone for long enough she's starting to worry (she can't see where he'd gone, she can't tell what's going on), and then he comes back, steps inside the ship, says hurriedly, "We need to get out, now-the sentries aren't paying attention."

Ahsoka takes a deep breath, swallows, reaches for the Force. They can do this.

...

Rex stays right next to Ahsoka as they follow Kenobi to the opposite side of the ship's hold. "There are sentries watching from there, there, and there," Kenobi says, pointing. "But if we climb out here we should be fine. One at a time, and I'll go first."

"No kriffing-"

"Anakin, not now, please." Kenobi's tone is sharp enough that Anakin actually subsides, and Kenobi pulls open a repair hatch in the side of the ship, quickly ignites his saber and slices an opening in the outside of the ship, pulls the piece of metal into the ship and sets it down quietly with a flick of his fingers. Then, with a small grimace, he climbs through the opening, across the landing pad, and with a smooth twist, dropped off the edge of it.

Jedi . Honestly. Jak starts to go out the opening, and Rex pushes past him, shaking his head. "I'm always first," he says, casually, because he's not letting Jak be alone with Obi-Wan - he's not had good self-control today. He doesn't think Jak loves that, but too bad.

He drops through the hatch, eases through the new hole in the bottom of the ship, and falls into a crouch, checks for sentries. No one seems to be watching, so he scrambles to the edge of the landing pad ( and he does not like heights he never has for kriff's sake why does this always happen ) and, grabbing the edge of it, swallows and lets himself drop off .

He hangs off the lip of the landing pad for a second, sees the ledge Kenobi is crouching on and lets himself fall the last several feet, landing and going to one knee to lessen the impact.

"Good to see you here, Captain," Kenobi says lightly, smiling. Rex settles into a crouch and nods.

"You too, General," he says lightly.

...

Bo-Katan and Jak, thankfully, don't need to be told to hurry; the instant Rex is out from underneath the ship, the two Mandalorians drop down, check to make sure the path is clear, and then vanish over the edge of the landing platform. Ahsoka slips through the small gap immediately after, finding herself only a couple meters from the platform's edge. Two steps forward will take her out from beneath the ship and the scant cover it provides, leaving her dangerously exposed, but the ship is almost fully fueled and Anakin still has to get out, so she takes a deep breath, lifts the hood of the cloak Anakin had tossed at her just a moment ago, and then she draws on the Force and slips out into the open.

You don't see me, she thinks, wrapping the Force around her like a second cloak, I was never here, and then she's crouching down, dropping over the lip of the platform and catching the very edge with her fingers. There's a ledge a couple meters down, occupied by Obi-Wan, Rex, and the mando'ade, and Ahsoka nods approvingly, swings her legs in a bit to change her trajectory, and lets go. She pulls on the Force a bit as she lands, lightly on the balls of her feet, and then she shifts over a bit to make room for Anakin, who's already making the jump.

Their ship flies by overhead, and she swallows the twist of anxiety in her stomach. From now until the battalions attack, they're effectively stranded.

"Grievous is on the tenth level," Obi-Wan says in a low voice. He indicates the next platform down, which Ahsoka judges to be about a twenty-meter drop, give or take, with one hand. "If we drop down to that platform, we should be able to slip inside and sneak down to the correct level."

It's a long fall, even for a Jedi, and Ahsoka hesitates, eyeing the distance. It'd be easier to jump back up onto the platform they'd landed on-but if the sentries are still watching, they'd be instantly revealed, and the whole plan would be compromised, so…

"Freefall until the last possible second," Bo-Katan says to Rex. "The less you use your jetpack, the smaller the chance we'll be detected."

"You are not going first this time, Master," Anakin adds furiously. Privately, Ahsoka thinks the chances of that succeeding are slimmer than the mission's odds, but it's a good try.

"On the contrary," Obi-Wan says lightly, and then he tips over the edge.

Anakin swears.

And then Obi-Wan tucks and rolls, comes up on his feet like he jumps twenty meters every day (which, knowing him, almost wouldn't be surprising), adjusts his hood and cloak, and gestures quickly up at them. Bo-Katan is next; she jumps off, her jetpack flaring to life when she's about five meters from the platform, enabling her to land easily without even dropping to a knee. Jak mimics her, and the three of them vanish out of Ahsoka's sight.

She takes a deep breath, exchanges a look with Anakin, sends a pulse of reassurance to Rex (he's anxious-he really hates heights), and then gathers her cloak up and steps over the edge.

There's a swooping feeling in her stomach, almost like a cloud of butterflies have suddenly hatched and are fluttering up into her throat, and she sucks in a sharp gasp and pulls on the Force, increasing strength and balance, and then she turns the wild freefall into a mostly-coordinated roll across the smaller platform and into the shadows. She gets back to her feet, grabs the hilts of her 'sabers to keep her hands from trembling, takes a shaky breath.

They can't go back now. The only way out is through.

...

Rex glances at Anakin, who gestures in front of him with a broad, generous smile. "After you, Captain."

Rex sighs and goes to the edge of the platform and doesn't hesitate, just jumps .

For a moment all his instincts are screaming and his stomach is trying to escape out his mouth and the fall feels like years and he hates heights why the kriff -

And he engages his jetpack with a jolt on his shoulders, slows just enough that landing heavily on the platform below doesn't send him crashing to the floor. He straightens and hurries out of sight, next to Ahsoka. A moment later, Anakin drops and rolls on the platform, and Rex envies his ease with it.

Tell me we aren't going to have to do that much more .

Ahsoka makes a face at him. What's the big deal, Rexter?

Rex snorts and rolls his shoulders.

"Are you all coming?" General Kenobi says, wryly, standing at a small tunnel entrance, eyebrows raised.

Anakin shakes his head and waves his hand; Rex falls in behind him with Ahsoka and Jak. No more falling, for now - but then he doesn't like tunnels either.

The tunnels are near-silent - even Jak's boots don't make much sound. "Keep an eye out for hostiles," he says. "The locals will turn a blind eye, but we can't afford to be seen."

...

Ahsoka keeps her movements quiet and careful, feeling almost like a ghost in the dark brown cloak and hood, especially with the way the locals are very careful to not acknowledge their presence. Every now and then, a patrol of droids troops by, and they have to take shelter in one of the nooks in the walls, one of the side rooms, frozen until the patrol passes by.

They maintain comms-silence as they go, just in case the Separatists are scanning for Republic comm frequencies in use, communicating solely through hand signals, though Ahsoka keeps up a steady projection of reassurance and calm across her bond with Rex-he's uncomfortable, unnerved by the tunnels. She doesn't like tunnels either, but that's easy enough to forget. She breathes in, breathes out, sinks deeper into mission-silence, lets the ice freeze over her thoughts. Calm, collected, focused. Ready.

They walk for what seems like an eternity, through a warren of tunnels that all look the exact same (a part of her vaguely wonders how Obi-Wan is navigating), and against her will, exhaustion begins to drag at her again. She knows once the actual fighting starts, adrenaline will kick in and she'll be able to think again, but for now it's taking every ounce of willpower, all the training she has, to keep herself on high alert, to stay aware of her surroundings. (If someone were to ambush her right now, she isn't sure she'd see it coming.)

Rex feels concerned in the back of her thoughts, and she thinks that's probably for good reason-she shouldn't be here.

But then again, none of them are exactly ready for this: all of them have been awake for too long, running on too little sleep, and they've just come from another battle. And Obi-Wan has still only been walking for a little under three weeks. And Jak's in almost the same situation as she is, maybe even worse, because she doubts he's had any sleep and he was so twisted up.

She's really not sure how exactly the Council expects them to defeat Grievous in this condition.

After a while, she's not sure how long, they leave the almost-claustrophobic tunnels behind, emerging onto a durasteel catwalk above a large room open to the sinkhole. Quite a few people are gathered below, Grievous pacing in front of them, all four hands clasped behind his back. He's saying something, but quietly enough she can't tell what, can't make out the words.

Obi-Wan signals at Bo-Katan, Jak, and Rex, directing them to form a perimeter, keep everyone penned in, and then he drops his hood and grins,and kriff. Kriff, she recognizes that look, that's the same look Anakin gets whenever he's about to do something stupid and ill-advised and totally reckless. (Like Master, like Padawan.)

By the look on his face, Anakin recognizes that smile too, but neither of them are fast enough-Obi-Wan shrugs off his cloak with a flourish, pulls out his lightsaber, and jumps off the catwalk, lands lightly on the floor, ignites his 'saber, and says, simply, "Hello there."

Kriff.

Rex and the two Mandalorians are moving, she vaguely notices, jetpacks on, but she ignores them mostly, focuses in on the floor below, because Grievous is igniting all four of his 'sabers and attacking and Obi-Wan has a kriffing hole in his chest and is not prepared for this. She jumps, ignites her own 'sabers, shouts out, "Hey, ugly! Over here, you karking demagolka!"

Grievous growls, and then does-something, she's not sure what, but there's multiple destroyers rolling in, and behind a massive squadron of battle droids, and from the sides of the room come four MagnaGuards, those stupid kriffing droids with the electrostaffs, and Ahsoka swears.

Kriff. They are so kriffed.

...

Rex reluctantly decides to follow Bo-Katan's lead, on this occasion; when she jumps down near Kenobi, he follows, even though he's kriffing tired of jumping voluntarily off of places today.

It's still a relief to draw both his blasters and head towards Ahsoka and Kenobi, shooting fast and occasionally pausing to roll a droid popper through a destroyer's shields. Ahsoka is engaging the MagnaGuards and he just keeps half an eye on her, enough that he feels like he'll see if she needs him. Anakin launches into the fight with Grievous, which is barely more than a blur of light and color.

A destroyer rolls between he and his Jedi, scrambling up onto its spindly legs and engaging its shields, and Rex scrambles back and grabs a grenade, steadies his hand and tosses it lightly across the ground so it slides through the shields and bursts into white light, energy and shrapnel slamming into a squad of B2 droids and one of the MagnaGuards. Rex shoots the downed droids for good measure and turns to keep Bo-Katan and Jak watching his flank, shoots a row of battle droids. He needs a faster way to get the destroyers out of the way, ideally, but he'll worry about that ifit becomes a problem, not before.

"Hey, adiik , on your right," Jak growls, and Rex whips his blaster over and fires in concert with Jak until the threat (six or so commando droids) is eliminated.

He glances over at Ahsoka again, keeping the three remaining MagnaGuards occupied, and as he looks she drives one away from the others, towards them, and Rex sees Bo-Katan ready her blasters, take aim at the droid - and Ahsoka slices it in half, then follows through and cuts its head off. Its electrostaff clatters to the ground, sparking, and Rex almost grabs it, except it's a close combat weapon and he would prefer to keep this fight far from close quarters.

Partly so Kix doesn't poison him.

So Rex just projects a hum of pride toward her, ignores the electrostaff on the ground, and works to stay out of the way of Grievous and his Jedi with their whirling sabers. Bo-Katan and Jak have taken to the air, to hold a better perimeter, but Rex doesn't because he's sick of heights and someone needs to take out the destroyers. They're holding alright, if pressure is high, when he hears shouting and a roar of engines and he smiles, accidentally rolls a grenade too hard and it bounces off the destroyer's shields. Kriff , focusing - but the battalions are here, and the Death Watch, flying in over their heads with jetpacks. Rex pulls back closer to Ahsoka, finds she's just fighting two MagnaGuards now - he holsters his newer DC and picks up one of the fallen electrostaffs, falls in next to and slightly behind her.

Hey, Soka. You're doing alright over here.

...

Ahsoka doesn't exactly startle, when Rex projects to her, but she's surprised. His voice cracks the ice, a little, and lets a bit of the exhaustion creep in; she pushes it back, determined, ducks a stray blaster shot, blocks two electrostaffs. Kind of you to notice, she thinks in response, dryly, rolling her eyes a little.

A grenade goes off nearby, and a chunk of debris (twisted and red-hot metal she thinks used to be a battle droid) hits the ground right next to her-she flinches a little, jerks her 'sabers up and drives between the two MagnaGuards. This is how they prefer to fight, she knows: one engaging the lightsaber, one attacking from behind. But they aren't used to fighting Jedi with two 'sabers, and it shows.

The reverse grip she uses on her 'saber hilts is a disadvantage in some situations, but here and now, it's a blessing, allowing her to easily swing one 'saber behind her to block without ever turning. She ignores the droid behind her (for the most part, dodging and blocking it when she needs to), sucks in a breath (her side is starting to hurt, and her shoulder is sore from the constant strain on it), reaches for the Force and asks for more speed, more strength, focuses on the other MagnaGuard-a duck underneath its staff, and she swipes out one 'saber and slices both its legs off at the knee-joints. She grabs onto the Force, pushes, knocking it to the ground, cuts off the arm holding the electrostaff before it can try and fight again, and finishes it off by slicing its head off.

And then something heavy and coldly metallic and sparking slams across her back and shoulders, sending her sprawling face-down onto the ground hard, her 'sabers flying from her hands and clattering to the floor, and for a moment she can't breathe, there's stars flashing in her vision and something hot and coppery streams down her face (her nose, she must've cracked her nose on something, it's probably broken, kriffing hells), and she struggles to string together a coherent thought, bringing her arms underneath her (there's so much blood and she feels like she's choking, even though she isn't, she knows she isn't but she can't breathe and she's panting) and starting to push herself onto her knees-

And the end of an electrostaff presses into her back, pins her to the ground, and she can't move, she can't, it's shocking her and her scars screamand she reaches out instinctively for Rex, for Anakin, for somebody, because it hurts and she's miscalculated and no, no, she can't-

The MagnaGuard's cold, clawed hand locks around her head, digging into the sensitive skin of her montrals and headtails, and she bites her lip to stifle a whimper (tastes blood, still can't breathe) as the droid tilts her head back until her neck burns from the stress, and it's staring down at her, a durasteel foot on her back now, its electrostaff jammed so firmly into her neck she physically cannot breathe, and she's kriffing going to die, she can't think and it all hurts and-

And then there's a voice, a sound, like light, like salvation, like laughter.

"Hey, you karking clanker! **Let. Her. Go."**

And Ahsoka's lightsaber sings as Rex cuts the MagnaGuard in half, his golden eyes molten and flaming in her blurred, black-spotted vision.

Kriffing hells, she loves that man.

* * *

Obi-Wan really should know better than this, he thinks, than to throw himself into a fight with General Grievous of all people, when he can barely walk. Even with Anakin here helping, the fight's a struggle.

At least with the chaos of the battle going on around them, Grievous can't pull his spinning-lightsabers trick.

Grievous isn't particularly skilled with his 'sabers, honestly-it's just that he's fast, and strong, and doesn't tire, and he has four of them. The only Jedi in recent history to wield so many blades was Krell, and that… had not turned out well. This isn't looking like it'll turn out well either, because both he and Anakin keep forgetting about the droid general's stupid kriffing legs. Like, for example, right now.

Obi-Wan gasps, his head spinning, white-hot agony stabbing through him, originating from the healing blaster wound in his back, and kriff that's not good; his 'saber is somehow still in his hand, even though he's just been kicked into a wall with the approximate force of a heavy durasteel speeder at ninety kilometers an hour. That's probably the only good thing about the situation he currently finds himself in. Because he's against the wall, slumping on the floor, struggling to even inhale, which means Anakin is facing Grievous alone. The dizzy swirls of light and color and sound in front of him resolve into a slightly-less-blurry scene, and he manages to focus through the pain in time to see Anakin catch all four of Grievous' 'sabers on his blue blade, hold it for a moment, then shove back and lunge in to slice one of the droid's arms off.

Impressive.

"You gonna make me do all the work, Master?" Anakin shouts, though Obi-Wan can feel a steady thread of concern across their training bond.

He huffs, manages to get enough of a full breath to heave himself to his feet (kriff, that was a mistake, everything's spinning again), and he ignites his lightsaber and moves to join the duel again. "You know, Grievous," he starts conversationally, as though he's not barely holding himself together, almost falling over, nearly throwing up from the pain, "I must wonder why the welcoming party-did you know we were coming?"

Grievous laughs, that awful grating choke that sounds so much like a cough. "Worse, Kenobi-I knew if you did come, it would be you and Skywalker, and I knew what strategy you would likely employ." He lunges, and Obi-Wan barely manages to parry in time, his mind spinning.

"How is that possible?" he wonders aloud, pulls on the Force for strength and speed and pain relief, manages to sneak in and cut off another of Grievous' arms. "Are we really that predictable?"

The droid general laughs again, kicks Anakin in the side (Obi-Wan swears, forces himself to keep engaging the droid and not run over to his former padawan's side). "No, Kenobi. Dooku has an asset that can be persuaded to reveal a great deal of information on your battle tactics."

"What kind of asset?" That's Anakin, who's recovered and pressing the attack again.

"What makes you think I'd tell you, Skywalker?"

Anakin grins, winks, kriffing ridiculous. "Oh, I don't know," he says airily. "My stunning good looks? My charm?" And, as he strikes again, his fingers twitch in a signal Obi-Wan knows well. Play dead.

(Not literally, of course.)

So Obi-Wan takes a deep breath, grabs onto the Force, and lets Grievous kick him in the gut, even though it feels like being headbutted by a bantha with a side of being eviscerated by a krayt dragon, lands hard on the unforgiving ground and tries to remember how to breathe, and he watches through watering eyes as Anakin lures Grievous back a little, so that his back is completely to Obi-Wan.

And then the signal comes, a tiny hand motion, a nudge across the bond, and Obi-Wan clings to the Force and vaults to his feet, silently, launches himself across the gap between himself and the droid general, leaves his 'saber off-and, at the last possible second, just before the hilt of his 'saber slams into Grievous' back-plating, where his organic heart is contained, he depresses the button and lights his blue blade through the droid.

Grievous has enough time to laugh, once more, harsh and grating, and then the light goes out of his mechanized eyes and he collapses.

Dead.

Collapsing, Obi-Wan thinks, sounds nice right about now. He could use a nice collapse. The planet isn't helping matters any, either; it keeps whirling, won't hold still-aren't planets supposed to hold still? It would be nice. He'd like to walk, at least to Anakin-

And then everything blurs and when he vision (sort of) clears, he realizes he's staring at the ceiling. How odd. It's not even an interesting ceiling, just… bland and jagged and rocky, and the ground is the same, come to think of it, stabbing him in all manner of inconvenient and uncomfortable places, and why is he down here, how did he even get here?

All very important questions, he thinks, but they can perhaps wait until after he's had a little rest. Just a little… nap… surely no one will begrudge him that…

* * *

 **Mando'a translations:**

 _Tal_ : blood

 _Haastale:_ dried blood or scabs (also a term for a lasting emotional scar which tbh we need a term for)

 _Skira:_ revenge, settling a score

 _Chaab:_ fear

 _Traat'aliit:_ squad

 _Vaar'ika:_ pipsqueak

 _Ori'ramikad:_ supercommando

 _Sen'tra:_ jetpack

 _Demagolka:_ war-criminal, someone who does really awful, atrocious stuff


End file.
